I'm in line at my bank. This is the only time I've ever had to wait in line, but there's only one teller. I'm depositing the receipts of last nite's support group meeting. I've stuffed the money in my backpack.
I'm fourth in line. A police officer stands behind me.
Funny, I said to him, I just pulled into a Handicapped Zone and said to myself, I doubt if a police officer is gonna come by.
You never know, said the handsome officer in full regalia, patch on his chest, gun at his side.
I dumped the money on the high table next to me, while waiting, and began to sort the bills. Seemed like a decent amount.
The police officer joked with someone he knew who was finished with his banking business.
They have a special TV you can watch while waiting. It's silent. Some news came on about about Blockbuster reorganizing. Netflix is killing them, I thought, but didn't say it to the officer even tho I wanted to. I didn't want him to think I was some nutcase with bipolar disorder who'd at one time ended up riding in the back of a cop car to Norristown State Hospital.
So I kept my mouth shut.
When I left I looked for the officer's police car.
There it was, a powerful-looking white Ford with shiny hubcaps. Unmarked.