The Montana State Patrolman called in his position and climbed out of the patrol car. Parked on the shoulder of the Interstate, just past the Columbus exit, the trailer rocked softly in the wind. Officer Craighead knocked sharply on the door. Inside he could hear the sound of a television turned up loud. The Montel Williams show. Finally, a disheveled individual in a t-shirt that read I Survived the Neil Young Center opened the door. It appeared he had just awakened, and as he first took in the cop, then the windblown surroundings, he muttered "looks a lot different in the daylight." The cop gazed at him though his Vuarnets with suppressed distaste. "License and registration," he said. The man stared vacantly at him, scratching his stomach, and said "is there a problem?" The cop took a deep breath and said "you can't park this thing here. You think this is an RV campground? You've even got your satellite dish set up." He indicated the dish, which stood on the grass verge, amid a pile of empty Rainier bottles. "The heron must have done that," said the man, who then climbed out of the trailer and opened the door of the '89 Taurus that was pulling it. Rooting around among the CDs and rolling papers in the glove compartment, the man at last fished out a folded and stained registration, which he handed over with his license. "Alright Mr...Fletpikker. Wait here, please." Craighead radioed the tag numbers in and unsnapped his pistol as he watched Fletpikker lean over the passenger seat to take something out of the backseat. He was relieved to see that it was only another Rainier. The plate number came back clear of infractions, but the dispatcher issued a cryptic warning...."keep an eye on this bunch."

After an uncomfortable moment when the Taurus didn't seem to have enough juice to turn the starter, the engine belched into life. "There's a KOA just past the Motel Six on the way into town," said Craighead. He stood and watched the rig slowly execute a u-turn in the middle of the highway. As the trailer passed heading toward the exit, he could have sworn a long-billed bird poked its head through the curtains to gawk at him. It was unsettling. He sat for a moment in the cruiser, then picked up a colorful brochure from off of the dash. "Experience the Delights of Beautiful Cozumel!" he read aloud.

Yeah. He had never been more ready for a vacation.