How I got free drinks and snacks courtesy of the Sheriff's Office.
In my post “Are all Americans Gun Crazy”? I mentioned that our evening out did not end without incident and said I may write about. Well, here is the story of the incident.
The last bar we visited was one my nephew knew the owner. It was quite a big place with a large car park, and it was dark by the time we arrived.
Inside was busy, but my nephew’s owner friend was absent that night. Last orders were called at midnight and we all took our leave.
Once in the car, my nephew, the deputy sheriff, started his car and began reversing out. Within seconds of the car moving back, a huge metallic ripping sound filled the car, followed by a strong smell of petrol (gasoline, I know).
We all leapt out of the car. A brief inspection under the car revealed a square metal plate that was for some reason lying flat in the car park, except one sharp corner had been wrenched up, and it was this piece of metal that had torn a hole in the cars fuel tank.
By now the bar had closed, all lights had been extinguished, and the place was in darkness.
We all moved to a side door where we assumed the manager lived. James, the deputy sheriff, knocked on the door.
“Were closed,” came the muffled reply from inside. My deputy Sheriff was having none of that. A much firmer and louder hammering on the door was followed by “open up, Sheriff’s office”.
I swear that door flew back as if it had been on springs. The situation was explained, and we were invited in.
The bar manager raised the owner and my nephew explained what has happened and who was going to pay.
While all this was going on, I was served free drinks and snacks. I was having what is called a “lock in” In the North of England, but in the part of London where I grew up it is called “afters”. Whatever it is called in America, I quite enjoyed it.
Once the business had been completed and a rather annoyed niece was roused to bring us home, we left our new friends to go to their bed.
Next day I boarded a plane to start my journey home.
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