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Writer's pictureROGER H. TALL, M.D.

JUST A CUTE, LITTLE FUZZBALL IN TACTICAL GEAR




The more stuff I get, the more trouble I have finding things. Where did I put my keys, my wallet, and my phone? How far down the road do you go before discovering that your electronic appendage has been left behind at the cabin? It is easier for us when MK leaves her phone behind because she usually discovers her screen is gone before we get out of the gate. It usually takes me until we get to Elk Creek Station before we have to turn around and go back. After struggling with this problem for a few years, I discovered fishing vests -- all sorts of pockets for my stuff. I have them in four colors — my favorite is desert beige. In magazines, English and Scottish fishermen are pictured wearing a fishing vest over a checkered shirt and red tie. I tried this a few times until I saw how silly I looked. Every now and then I have to look in the mirror to remind myself that I am just a fat little urologist with rubber shoes. For me, a fishing vest improves the look and people think that I am going hunting or fishing. Last week I wore the desert beige vest to Kaysville, Utah to attend my grandchildren’s piano recital. We made our traditional stop at Maddox. I dropped MK off at the main door to get our table and then proceeded to the parking lot. I noticed three black Suburbans parked in a row by the back stairway, which is covered with a green and white striped awning. People in their Sunday best were coming down the stairs and mingling around the SUVs. It looked like they were getting ready to leave, so I thought I would wait for a moment and take one of their spots, until I saw that the SUVs were parked in handicapped spaces -- without the ubiquitous ADA blue and white symbol hanging down from their rearview mirrors. So I parked elsewhere. As I walked up the parking lot to the main entrance, a little red sped around the corner and cut me off and I had to scurry to get out of the way and kept up the pace in case another car came zipping around the corner. My little run took me directly toward the SUVs. The distance between us was decreasing rapidly and the men in dark suits suddenly came to attention. I looked up to see a dozen or so sturdy-looking types standing absolutely still, staring at me in unison, like a pack of dogs on point. One of the men was crouching by the driver’s door of the nearest black SUV and his suit coat opened far enough for me to see that he was packing heat and had several radios on his belt. Nothing gets the attention of a security team faster than someone running straight for them dressed in tactical gear. They relaxed a little when I changed course and headed toward the main entrance. MK texted me as I was washing my hands and I joined her in the restaurant. As our waitress was taking our order, she told us in an excited whisper that EDB, a prominent church leader, had been in the upper room just ten minutes earlier. He may have been in the entourage of people coming down the back stairs, but I didn’t have time to notice — I was too busy avoiding cars and studying his security detail — looking at them while they were looking back at me, trying to decide quickly if I was a harmless little fuzzball or a terrorist. Fortunately, I did not reach into my fishing vest for my phone to call MK and find out where she was. Wouldn’t that have been exciting?


Ever Vigilant,


RT

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