The larger, older, more aggressive cop approached our semi-circle of chairs after driving up and getting out of his cop suburban. "Did you know you have 2 violations right now?" he asked. Evidently I was parked off the road too much, must stay on the street at Erwin Park, especially near the campsites. "That's $350 bucks right there alone. And you can't drink here, that's another citation."
My daughters were merely dancing to tunes at sundown, we were celebrating the partial opening of Texas. It was May 1st. "Well, earlier my wife suggested I park on the street, suggested I follow the rules, suggested conformity. Look at me now," I joked. The smaller, younger, and less confident cop reinforced the drinking ban and apologetically mentioned something about doing their jobs, then got back into his seperate cop suburban after proudly telling me they would let me off with only a warning.
Up the hill and around the big loop, on the north side of Erwin Park, a bonfire raged. I could smell it in the air, wood crates stacked high, orange glow in the dark night, more wood crates stacked high on a trailer nearby. Something about building a fire, a huge fire, liberates with its ashes and smoke and wild flames. The Fire Department was called, police interrogations, and an automotive scattering of youth. Wondered if that guitar player was there, the one with the funny hair.