Signs

The plot was hatched around a simple table. There was Tim, who in his zeal was trying to inflate plan into things we just couldn't do. Things which probably left the morally grey to not advisable. There was James, who didn't always get to hang out with us, but tonight he was here, charged by the prospect and ready to go. Last, there was me, I thought this would be fun and probably wouldn't get us into trouble.

It was the time of the presidential election of 1992. On every corner there were Clinton, Bush and Perot signs and the ads were in full force. While I've selected Perot as my candidate, I don't really understand anything about politics, it is just a game. To this end, I don't take any of the signs or ads seriously. The same can not be said of my boss, at work, who I have seen tell the various requesters that they, in fact, can not put their signs on Arby's property. I like her, but this has nothing to do with my desire to mess with her.

The plan is to gather up as many of these signs as we can and over the course of the night, canvas the small lawn under the stylized cowboy hat.

We watch the sky darken and refine the plan. We figure we need to select a candidate, it will make it that much more distressing. Every candidate would be annoying, but one candidate would make it seem like the boss wanted to throw their weight behind them. There was really only one choice. Perot. First, I would get a personal smile seeing all those signs for my guy. Second, he was already clearly not going to win the election. Last, Becky certainly wasn't going to be backing Perot.

The three of us load up into the grassy knoll, my Ford Escort, and take to the streets. In the first few neighborhoods we look in Perot signs are all but none existent. If we get any signs from in neighborhoods, it was a very small number. In the dark of the vehicle, we realize we need to change plans. Where we do see Perot signs is on the intersections of major roads. So, we take to the major roads.

The plan is this. I will drive to a corner with signs. Tim will hop out and pull up all the Perot signs and he'll hand them through the window to James. As the driver, I won't stop if there are cars around, but I will turn back so we can eventually get the signs. It is thrilling and fun. As the pile of cardboard grows we laugh and talk about the look on Becky's face. We imagine the cursing Fran will do when she is told to go out front and remove all the signs.

We just need a few more, but a car has settled in behind us, and I'm on the Joy road by Mettetal, where there is no good spot t turn around. James informs Tim and I it is a cop. My speed is good, but I watch it like a hawk. That and all the mirrors I can watch the cop through. I find out later, I'm not the only once twitching and watching the police officer. I am flooded by red and blue lights. Crap!

I pull over and tell James to cover the signs as best he can.

I am directed to step out of the car and directed where to stand with the butt of Maglite he has been illuminating me with. He asks me some very vague questions and the then tells me he pulled be over because of the twitchy kid in the back seat. Who, it turns out is after curfew, so I need to get his young butt home. I don't think the officer's language was quite that nice because he was annoyed.

He then, to highlight the point, shines his light on James and sees the signs his leg is over.

"What are those?"

"Perot signs."

"Are they yours?"

"They are now."

At this point he looks at me considering what to do. I don't know what his options are, but for a moment I regret my last response.

"Where did you get them from?"

"The corners of the roads. People leave them on public property."

He pauses again and decides to not push any further. I suspect I just become more trouble than the time he was spending.

"Get your young friend home and tell to quick gawking everywhere. And quit taking the signs."

"Yes, sir." I wonder if he knew how much I was sweating.

James went home and the signs stayed in my car.