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Show O: Tern (D'CllaDdk WDnfisitfle L T . T by David Fleishcr f ..ii'r I. II I I Just along for the ride Sometimes reporters get to do interesting things in order to cover a story. Not long ago I interviewed a convicted murderer. That was fairly interesting. When I was covering the Silver Lake Lodge fire, I got in one of those ladder trucks and went way up in the air to get a better view of the damage on the roof of the building. That was moderately scary, but interesting nonetheless. A few years ago, Park Record Editor David Hampshire and I took a Lear Jet to ' Texas to cover a film being made by Sunn Classic Pictures. I didn't think very much of the film, but Hampshire and I had a great time in the jet, jumping up and down in our seats yelling to the pilot, "Higher! Let's go higher!" If you've never been in a Lear Jet, you should try it; it's really a lot of fun. This past weekend during the Art Festival, I drove around with Park City Police Chief Frank Bell while he was checking out traffic congestion. This may not sound as interesting as interviewing a convicted murderer. However I learned a few things about the way people act during my brief ride in the police vehicle. By the way, the vechicle was open-air; open-air; I wasn't sitting behind a cage in the back seat of a police car. Consequently, I was able to see better, and conversely, people in their cars and along the sidewalks were able to see me better. I was covering the Art Festival for KPCW, so I wanted to get a firsthand first-hand account of how traffic was flowing. We started off at the post office on Main Street. There were thousands of people all around us. "Get in, David," Frank said. The moment I got in the vehicle, I saw the stares from people I knew and people I didn't know. They were looking at Frank. Why is everyone looking at Frank? He's not that handsome. And then it immediately dawned on me that I was sitting next to a policeman. We drove across Main Street, up Park Avenue and around to Swede Alley. People kept staring, and some even pointed. Some people turned their backs as we approached. I guess they didn't want to be recognized. As we headed for Utah Highway 224 to the outskirts of town, I noticed Frank didn't seem to care that people were staring at him. I figured he was used to it. I wanted to yell, "What's the matter wth you people?! This is Frank! He's a nice guy, even if he is wearing a policeman's uniform. He's not harassing you. We're checking out the traffic flow." Once we got to the highway, Frank called dispatch and gave instructions. He re-directed traffic to Prospector Square to alleviate congestion on 224. "It's not too bad yet,", I said. "Not yet," Frank replied. Frank weaved between cars and started returning to Park City on the shoulder of the road. I felt like saying, "Frank, do you realize you're driving on the shoulder of the road. This ain't legal." But then again, Frank's the chief of police. He must know what he's doing. As we traveled past the long line of cars, people kept staring. "He's just checking out the traffic situation! He's iiot going to thr6w you in the slammer! What are you staring at?" And then the thought came to me: Maybe they aren't staring at Frank, maybe they're skiring at me. But I'm not that handsome either, and I'm not a policeman. Then, something else came to me: I'm with a policeman. My God, these people think I did something wrong. Why else would I be riding with a policeman? I began to feel self-conscious. I could just imagine what everybody was thinking: "Take that bum to jail! Put him in the slammer and throw the key away! He's a common criminal! He's no good, a threat to society! Lynch him to the highest tree! " I even thought I heard someone scream from a car, "Wife-beater! Child molester! Tax evader!" I wanted to yell, "I didn't do it! I'm not even married, I have no children, and I paid my taxes this year!" We went past several people waiting at a bus stop, and they looked at me. "I didn't do it!" I yelled as we drove down the highway toward Main Street. Meanwhile, Frank appeared indifferent, although he was intent on making sure the traffic flowed smoothly. How could he be thinking about traffic at a time like this? Those people think I molest little girls in schoolyards! They should be arrested! We arrived at the Kimball Art Center, and Frank said to me, "Well, David, that's it." "Thanks, Frank," I replied, as I climbed out of the vehicle. "Stay out of trouble," he said, and drove away. And I almost said, "But I didn't do it! I'm not even married, I have no children, and I paid my taxes this year!" As I walk up Main Street I hear the Ten O'clock Whistle. |