Good morning REOvil! Just enjoying a cup, a beautiful sunrise, catching up with my REOpeeps and Jimmy Buffett (good one, Karen!
).
Don't think this day can get much better.
Growing up on Ft. Lauderdale beach during the '60's was pretty much like living in a fairy tale what with the weather, spring break, scantily bikinied ladies... and the music. One of the local's favorite artist's was Jimmy Buffet, especially since he spent so much time just down the road in the Keys.
During the mid-'70's two of my department buddies and I happened to have an actual weekend off, (a very rare occurrence), and decided to head to Key West for the weekend to reconnoiter and perhaps capture some of the vacationing wildlife. While transiting to our destination we naturally stopped at virtually every bar alone the way to test the quality of the liquid contained in long neck, glass bottles. (That was a time when if you had a badge on you you didn't go to jail for anything alcohol and driving related. If memory serves me right, we called it professional courtesy. Right or wrong, that's the way it was.)
After a few quality checks we happened to stop at a very handsome resort-like tavern on the Gulf side of U.S.1 on one of the Keys north of Key West. Since it was only a little after mid-day the only other patrons were three gentlemen sitting at a table in a corner just inside the veranda that looked out over the Gulf.
Whilst enjoying several bottles of the establishment's cold, adult beverage one of my buddies nudged me on the arm, nodded to the center of the three men at the far table and proclaimed that it was Jimmy Buffet. Not able to see my own table top clearly much less someone sitting 30 feet away I attempted to clear my vision with additional consumption of more medicinal alcohol. It didn't work. My buddy then informed our other department comrade as to the results of his investigative prowess. He didn't care either.
Miffed at not being acknowledged as a modern day Sherlock Holmes our buddy took it upon himself to yell across the room, "Hey, buddy, are you Jimmy Buffet?" (Not a generally accepted police tactic when attempting to identify a suspect... but in this case it worked. Who would'a thunk it.)
Jimmy smiled a broad smile, raised a long neck and motioned us over to the table. (Huh, a decision had to be made, if we went there was a possibility of free beer. No decision... we went, quickly.)
It should be noted that being the mid-70's it was at the height of the Disco ere, part of which included wearing designer jeans that had no pockets and being South Florida it was certainly too warn, (hot) to wear a cover garment. That conundrum was easily solved by many of us carrying tote bags. (Uninformed civilians now refer to them as man-purses but they were stylish tote bags, make no mistake about it.) In these TOTE bags we carried our guns, badge cases, keys, money, cigarettes, lighters, etc. Everything one needed to recreate at a high level yet still be able to take action should the situation dictate.
Upon reaching the table we set our TOTE bags in front of us, introductions were made, we sat across from the three men, and our host, who was sitting in the middle summoned the tavern keeper and ordered a round of cold liquid.
During our casual, and non-subject conversation one of the gentleman pulled out a pack of cigarettes, not a potentially aggressive movement so no particular attention was paid... until he shook out several of them onto the table and produced a hidden 'hand rolled looking cigarette'. A keen observer would have noticed slight grins spread across our faces in the knowledge of what was to come.
The contraband was lit with a lighter and as the corner of the room was engulfed with lung held, then exhaled smoke and passed between the three men the 'hand rolled cigarette' was held across the table by our host and offered to us. Surely our laughter would have been a dead give away to sober and straight men but such was not the case.
As if we had spent countless hours rehearsing our action we all unzipped our TOTE bags, (not man purses), extracted our badges and dropped them on the table. I personally have never seen a ghost but I imagine they would look similar to the three men sitting across from us. It is a heart warming feeling to be in the presence of people who know you have them by the short hairs and have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next. Our outburst of uncontrollable laughter set the three men at ease and resulted in a visibly sigh of relief.
Kudos to them for being smart enough to remove the contraband from view so as not to compromise us further and reward our discretion with copious amounts of beer. All in all everyone had a good time, ultimately, and left with an offer from Jimmy that if we were ever in a position to be in the area of one of his concerts we merely had to show our identification to gain admittance and we would be graciously treated to a backstage party.
I really miss police work.
This video was made a few decades after the incident but only a few miles away and is what used to be one of South Florida's favorite songs.
Oh, good morning Reonuts.
Jack
. Long night little guy has an ugly cold 
I used to love visiting your fine country until your Jackass imigration yahoos wouldn't let me take my darling wife down there.But I'd love it if you came here for a visit I don't drink anymore but I'd happily buy you a real beer 
