From a distance we could see the deliberate, choreographed moves and the glint of the silent blade cutting through the night air. What that guy was up to, we didn’t know, but we were about to find out.
It wasn’t very often that we got to ride around in a two-man car. With only four or five officers on the street on any given midnight shift, it was a luxury the brass usually couldn’t afford. Plus, they probably figured we’d just goof off all night, but I’m not sure. Nevertheless, we had convinced the powers-that-be that a two-man car would be justified,at least for that night, as long as we were super proactive. If you work in a small town you know that being proactive usually means traffic enforcement. And on the midnight shift, it definitely means DWI arrests — both of which get pretty old pretty fast.
Sword Play
We were riding around in an unmarked SUV hunting criminals like Jack Ryan hunting Red October. Somewhere around 2:00 a.m. we parked behind a building to take care of some business. The spot was conveniently shrouded by a large cluster of bushes that overlooked the parking lot of a manufacturing plant situated below us at the bottom of a rolling hill. We took turns keeping watch and answering Nature’s call. Afterward, we stood around and talked for a few when something grabbed our attention.
From the parking lot below it was the choreographed, martial arts-like moves and the street lights glinting off the long blade that simultaneously caught our eye. Was that guy swinging a samurai sword around!? My first thought recalled an old police video that I had seen of some guy hopped up on meth wielding a samurai sword. Instead of just shooting him the cops blasted him with a fire hose and disarmed him. My second thought was if that’s what this was, our night was about to get way more interesting than chasing yellow line violations and defective tail lights.
Cowboys and Kung Fu
Like a couple of giddy cowboys we saddled up and hauled butt back out onto the main road and into the entrance of the parking lot below. As we called in the possibility of a sword-wielding maniac over the air, we circled wide before swooping in to get a closer look and to give us time to mentally prepare for a guy who was about to bring a sword to a gunfight. I could feel the adrenaline hit my heart and shoot through my veins faster than a sordid rumor through a police department.
As we closed in our headlights blanketed the trunk of the car that our little samurai friend had opened and was now suspiciously leaning into. I figured he must have spotted us and was either trying to hide his weapon or get another one. We hit the brakes, dropped the shifter into park, hopped out, and closed the gap before this guy had a chance to go full-on Kung Fu Theater.
Mom’s Basement
Though I thought that he had seen us coming, the reality was he was completely unaware of our approach because not only was his head in the trunk of his car but he was wearing old school Sony Walkman headphones, complete with the little orange foam muffs, listening to a classic movie soundtrack we’d probably all be familiar with. Also, this guy was the opposite of a force to be reckoned with — we had actually scared the daylights out of the guy coming in the way we did.
After he had unclenched and regained his composure, he wasn’t at all what I thought he’d be as we rolled in hot and heavy. He looked like a 40-something who had just turned off the game console long enough to come out of his mom’s basement and check in on the progress of the world. He had shapeless, flabby arms, a beer belly draped in a decades-old polo shirt, and a haircut reminiscent of every bad 70’s movie ever made.
The Real Deal
Once he understood why we were there his face changed from the dull coherence of a gorilla to the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. He was all too willing to tell someone, anyone, all about it. He leaned back into his trunk, opened a hard-cover case, and proudly produced a lightsaber. It was not the kind of lightsaber that you would find at your local toy store, grab off the shelf and throw in your shopping cart for your dorky nine year old nephew. Oh no. This was a custom, high-end, made out of actual metal with all the nuanced details only an ultra-nerd would notice kind of lightsaber. It was the real deal, or something.
This grown man was listening to Star Wars music on his orange-muffed Sony Walkman and fighting imaginary Sith lords and Storm Troopers with his adult lightsaber while on his break at the manufacturing plant. It was abundantly clear to us that the only danger was to this man’s dating prospects. Amused and strangely disappointed, we got into our SUV, and ventured back off into the night to chase tail lights. My partner picked up the mic to clear the call and there was only one way to say it, “Uh, we’ll be clear, Headquarters … it was, um, it was a lightsaber.” You just can’t make this stuff up.
Well, I guess you could, but who would believe you?
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