Ate at a picnic yesterday; great food. Didn’t know anyone; they’re all my Dad’s friends. Pharmacist by trade my Dad is, so are most of his friends. All the pretty girls were taken, and the only thing the men would talk about are new drugs on the market. I decided to get some of our stuff (chairs, basket, etc.) and go home early; after all the Saints were going to be on TV.

I was driving down the Interstate yesterday on my way back home, when I got pulled over by the blue lights. You always get this nervous feeling in your stomach when this happens: how much will the ticket be, will this go on my insurance record, etc. I was pulling out my license and insurance and, as I thought would happen, the patrolman stepped up to my window. He was an older man, in his fifties I’d say. Gruff type. Wore sunglasses and everything. Good thing, because I’m sure his eyes would have pierced deep into my very soul.

“License and insurance, please.”

I complied. He continued, “So tell me, son, why were you going so fast?”

“Sorry, officer, I was coming from a picnic.”

“Picnic, huh? Was the food good?”

I nodded. That was a strange question.

“If I knew there was a picnic with good food, I’d be headed that way. Were the girls pretty?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what? If the girls were pretty and the food was good, why are you leaving the picnic?”

I decided to go along with this. “First off, all the girls were taken by pharmacists who make more than I do, and secondly, I can only tolerate so much talk about what new pills are on the market. Lastly, the Saints are playing tonight and I’d really like to see them, so if you could just give me the ticket…”

This made the gentleman pause. He took off the sunglasses he was wearing. His eyes were reflective.

“Pharmacist, huh? Tell me, son, was there a girl there by the name of Sue Ann.”

“I don’t think so, but I didn’t meet everyone.”

“Well, she wouldn’t be a girl anymore. I was a pharmacist once, you know.”

“Really? Maybe you know my Dad…”

He interrupted me (I don’t think he heard me) and continued with his monologue.

“That was long ago. And Sue Ann; she was so young.”

I really didn’t know what to say to all this. No problem, the officer talked instead.

“Is that a lawn chair in your backseat?”

“Yeah…”

“Lemme see it.”

I pulled out the lawn chair for him. He unfolded it and proceeded to sit in it. On the side of the highway.

“There. This is going to take awhile.”

An 18 wheeler roared by.

“Mr. Officer, sir, that truck was really close to hitting you.”

“Right. Pull over a little son.”

“Excuse me?”

“So the cars, trucks, and whatever God wants to throw at me won’t hit me. He’s already hit me enough in this life. He’s a good shot.”

“I’d like to talk to you, sir, but I’m trying to get home. The Saints are playing tonight…”

“In that case, do you want to know how much your ticket’s gonna be?”

I decided to give him some room; I could just catch the Saints midway through the game. Besides, talking with officers in this manner usually gets you out of tickets , and I also was interested to hear what he had to say. I would regret this.

Hours later…

This officer went through every single aspect of his life in minute detail; he’s 61. A lot of life to describe. I was half-asleep. (If I told you everything he told me, you’d only make it a fourth of the way through before swearing that you’ll never come to this website again.) He talked about he was a pharmacist at one time and how he abandoned the profession, because his fiance’, Sue Ann, left him for another pharmacist. That part was intense, but I think I drifted in and out of consciousness when he started to talk about a fishing trip he took to Arkansas when he was 37. I was resigned to this; the Saints game was surely over.

“So let me finish with this,” he said. “Of all the things I’ve learned, this I value the most. Pills and highways have this in common. You can drive up and down these highways, leave everything behind you, but like pills, it’s only provides temporary relief.”

“I’ll remember that.”

He proceeded to pull out his ticket book. Crap. After all that, he was still going to give me a ticket. But to my surprise, when he handed me the dreaded form, all it said was

“Terry Pendleton, Rx.”

I looked up at him. His name tag was inscribed

“Terry Pendleton”

“Remember, son, remember.”

We parted ways. I thought about what he said. Definitely one of those things you won’t forget; unlike football game times. I found out the Saints weren’t playing last night, but tonight. So I received a life lesson, and I get to watch the game. Sveet.