Men in Blue

With things to tend too, it was after 4: OO PM before I left Naples. With the late departure I was already having doubts about finding a campground before dark, but I knew it was time to get out of Naples. The $58 per night for a tent site with no electric was blowing my budget. After 30 days on the road things were getting tight.

Traveling on I-75, in an effort to north as far and as fast possible, I spied a sign for a State Park. To my disappointment the State Park, was a beach and not a campground at all. No camping permitted.

The park ranger advised me that there was another State Park just to the north where they had campsites. He called ahead to see if any campsites were available. Campsites were available, but the campground would close at sunset which was only 20 minutes away. The ranger (still on the phone) advised them that I was on a motorcycle and should be able to make it within the 20 minute time frame. He was wrong; and to my misfortune they didn't - "leave the lights on for me" - or the gate open either. I hadn't timed the trip, but it seemed like less than 20 minutes. No matter - the gate was, still CLOSED.

Sitting, despondently, in front of the gate, I thought back to when (in Pennsylvania) I had pitched my tent outside of a "roadhouse" restaurant and, more less, gotten away my pursuit without any difficulty.

Looking around, there was plenty of area where I could pitch my tent and probably, ...possibly, ...perhaps, ...maybe, not be noticed; but, where would I put the motorcycle? The ground was questionable soft, and even if it were not, I would be in real trouble if caught riding on the grass in the State Park (even I, thought that this would be worthy of punishment).

I returned the highway to consider my options.

While gassing up, I sighted a car wash separated from the gas station by a wide driveway. Investigating, it looked perfect. I could pitch my tent out of site behind the car wash, and park my motorcycle nearby (out of sight of most anyone). Wrong again!

About 3: 30 AM, while resting soundly, I was alerted by the sound voices and "flashlights'" approaching my tent.

"Is there anyone in there," asked one of my unwanted guests.

"Yes," I replied.

"Who's with you?"

"I'm alone"

"Come out here."

"I've got to get my pants on."

Brief pause, "Do you have any guns?"

"No," I replied.

"Hurry up."

I'm putting my pants on."

"Come on, you're not going to a prom"

Out side the tent now, they (four males and a female officer) continue, "Where are you from"

"I'm from Michigan," I replied,

"What are you doing down here?"

"I'm just traveling around the country and writing a blog as I go."

"Probably robbing banks," replied, "my nemesis", sarcastically.

"Sit down," ordered someone else.

Looking at the dew soaked ground, I hesitated.

"Sit down now!" he barked unkindly.

Sitting on the dew soaked grass, one of them felt my pockets and asked, "What's this?"

Not waiting for my reply, he shouted, "Do you have any knives?"

"I don't any weapons," I replied.

To which "my nemesis," obviously impressed with himself, interjected (a comment which he would repeat, to my utter contempt, several times) "he's just here robbing banks."

In the end, despite "my nemesis," urging, they must have determined that I was neither a bank robber nor "Jack-the-Ripper." After "my nemesis" offered one final admonishment, "just keep from robbing banks, and you'll be alright," they allowed me finish what was - a restless sleep at best.

I awoke later, thinking to myself, "They were just doing their job;" but, I hadn't really done anything to be ashamed of - so why was I feeling so ashamed? "If your going to act like a vagrant, you've got to be able to roll with the punches," I told myself.

However, "I am not a vagrant", and I'm not sure that I am up to the task.

All of the officers, save one, had treated me with respect; which, in my opinion, was our mutual responsibility (and was greatly appreciated from my perspective). "My nemesis," on the other hand (in my humble opinion), brings shame to uniform.