When all of the sudden, here comes a white truck with lights on top that parks right behind me. Out steps a park ranger with the expression that read, 'All right, moron, let's hear your excuse.' My jittery brain tried to think of something smart and witty to say. My mouth ended up blurting out, "I'm about to get kicked out of the park, aren't I?"
He said, "Yes. Can I see some ID?"
Baffled, I stood there a second and said, "Sure." I whipped out my wallet, with that doofy picture of me on my driver's license and handed it to him along with my park membership card. I'm not some hobo off the street, after all. I pay good money to patronize that park.
I rambled on about how I do this blog and I thought taking pictures of cemeteries would be a great idea for Halloween. He looked at me like, oh, so you're crazy. Now get off our trail.
So the only thing scary that happened at all was this big park ranger asking for my ID. And when you're me (though God willing you'll never run into that problem), that is very scary. I mean, I really figured the worst he would do was kick me out, but those people carry weapons and the authority to arrest you if it comes to that. Taser burns averted. Whew. Do you see what I go through to entertain the masses?
So, lesson learned. Stay on the designated trails, people! You'd think they'd be used to all those genealogist types running amok. You know how they are. ;)