Undercover Normal

I was startled by the sound of car doors slamming outside. Men talking. Bustle. More car doors. More men talking. A car idling in front my my house.

I step out the front door and see three large men, sitting in a dark-blue Ford Bronco. They're wearing camouflage uniforms. The interior light is on, and they're passing folders and pieces of paper among them. They laugh and banter.

I stepped back inside. Then, hesitantly I returned outside. I watched for a few more moments. Okay. I approached the car, noisily, so they'd know I was coming.

"Hey, guys. Everything all right?" I ask.

No answer.

Louder now, I ask "Excuse me, guys, are you just idling here? Everything cool?"

The youngest, maybe 25, in the passenger seat, turns to me annoyed. "Yeah. Oh. Um. Yeah. We're going fishing."

Recognizing this dude as my neighbor's son (who might live there? I'm not sure) and relieved, I stammer, "Oh, uh, oh. Cool. Well, good luck . . . . With the catch and all."

Oh. Duh. I'm an idiot.