Bodacious Boomer

Most people who know me know that Doug and I did a lot of traveling for 10 years doing festivals big and small all over the country from Seattle to Key West, from Arizona to the Adirondacks. When the crowds were there with money and the weather was good we did really well.  When the weather was heinous or the festival was so empty you couldv’e bowled with a human head without drawing attention, it sucked. Before we got into it big time traveling all around the country, we did events in and around the Houston area. One of these events was in Columbus, TX, about 60 miles from Katy, where we live. Quick and easy, or so we thought. We had a Nissan Maxima back then. Being a good boy scout, Doug decided to bring everything under the sun- for a one day show. (In reality, when a shows lasts only 7 hrs, you don’t need much.)

Doug loads everything into and on top of the car. All I see behind me in the car is assorted booth “stuff.” Brett, who was 12 at the time, went with us that day. He’s back there-somewhere. However, I can’t see him. My feet are on the dash because there’s more “stuff” on the floor in front of me. To add to my bliss, the ac is out in the car so the windows are down. Doug can’t see out the rear view mirror. Sardines have more room. We get to the show and the biggest employer in town had just gone belly up. There was no money to be made.

Since we weren’t busy Brett was bored and went walking. Luckily he ran into a friend from school who was also there. We gave him $5. They left to walk to the Walmart. (All small Texas towns have a Walmart.) They return with small, gray plastic pistols that shot darts with the suction cups. We pack up couple of hours early to go home, not having covered the $150 booth fee. The trip going home was worse because now you’re hot, dirty, tired and you didn’t make any money.

We notice a couple of police cars speed by us- then another. “They’re really after someone.” Doug said. The next thing we know, a police car is pulling us over. Doug assumes it for the cracked tail light. He pulls over and waits. A trooper comes to Doug’s side with his gun drawn. “Get out of the car.” Doug looked at me and said “They really take a cracked tail light seriously.” “Hands on the car. Down on the ground. Face down.” When I try to say something I’m told to shut up. All the while I have a shotgun aimed at me. By now there are 3 other police cars there. I felt like Bonnie and Clyde without the money.

I see another officer with his gun drawn going towards the back seat. He yells out “It’s a toy!” Apparently Brett had been aiming his water pistol out the open back window while we were driving down I-10. Of course we had absolutely no idea he was doing this. Numerous people had called 911.  They said there was a kid pointing a gun at the people as they drove by. Doug’s finally allowed to get up. (He’d been laying in a puddle with fire ants.) The officer holding me at bay lowers his shotgun . They all walk off without so much as one word. In the trooper’s defense, for all they knew, it was a crazy person with a real gun. However, I don’t think it would’ ve killed someone to say, “Sorry about that.”

Brett thought it was hilarious. Us, not so much. More exciting tales from the road another time…