There ARE Cops Around When You Need Them

On Saturday, I restarted my daily walk down on the floodwall.  I've made it through a mile each day, and if I can make it through what I endured on yesterday's walk, I can walk through anything.  I parked the Blazer and started up the paved walkway going to the top of the hill.  Off to my right in an open area of the park were three large 4-wheel drive trucks slinging mud and making gigantic ruts in about 2 feet of mud.  Coming down the walkway I met a man in a suit who was holding up his pant legs, and he muttered something about it being muddy.  I just smiled and carefully continued my walk, lest I slip in the mud and fall.  The man also said that they called the metro government office and they said they could come there to film a commercial.  Whatever.  

As I continued walking up to the floodwall, one of those trucks decided to cross over and drive down the walkway.  In order to keep from getting run over by the monster truck, I hopped off of the walkway into ankle-deep mud and water.  Don't think I wasn't pissed. As soon as I got to the top of the floodwall, I got my phone out of my pocket and immediately called the police and reported the trucks damaging the park.  I continued my walk and when I turned to make the trek back, I could see and hear the police cars coming down to the parking lot.  When I got a closer look, I saw not one but four of them.  Needless to say I was surprised that they came that quick; I was even more surprised that they took my call seriously and came to check things out.

I made my way back down the walkway to the parking lot, and as I was wading through the mud I saw a young officer taking pictures of the crime scene.  I asked him "Who do I send my dry cleaning bill to?" He looked very serious and said "That's what we're trying to determine, ma'am."  I trudged on to the Blazer, and was fussing to myself as I fished out a roll of paper towels from the back of the Blazer to try and get some mud off of my shoes and pant legs before I got inside.  Another officer came over and asked me if I saw the trucks in the field and I told him I most certainly did; I even spoke up and told him I was the one that called 911 about it.  He asked if I would give a statement, and I told him the sordid details about the monster truck drivingdown the walkway and forcing me to get in ankle deep mud.  I also said in my official statement that this part of the county can't have anything nice without the punks coming and tearing it up.  He agreed with me and said they sure tore this up. 

As I pulled out of the parking lot, the one younger officer was still taking pictures of the crime scene; I don't think they take as many on an episode of "CSI" as this guy did.  But at least they have photographic proof that those punks were defacing our public park property.  I was glad that one of the trucks got stuck.  And I would have been even happier if the man in the suit had fallen down in the mud.