Just another day in Memphis

Memphis has rails to trails project named The Greenline.  It runs from Shelby Farms, a county park, to the area known as Midtown.  It has become very popular with bikers, joggers, walkers and the occasional rollerblader.   Part of route of The Greenline goes by the Shelby County prison.

When I go to jog or bicycle I actually park in a prison parking lot.  Interesting enough the County police recently placed a mobile surveillance unit in the lot.  You know, one of those contraptions that flashes blue constantly and has cameras up on a stalk.  I can only surmise that there had been some issues with vehicles in the parking lot as it is well used by patrons of The Greenline, and visitors and employees of the prison.   Is stupidity or chutzpah to commit crimes right at the prison’s front gate?

By the time I get off work this time of year it is already dark.  Nevertheless, many evenings I will get a run in.  This particular night due the cold and the wind I had on a wind shell with a hood pulled around my head.  I had just started on the path, and was doing some fast walking to warm up before I started jogging.   I heard someone yell to my left, but I could not make out the words.  I looked that way and a black man in his late twenties had gotten out of the backseat of an older Cadillac.

I dropped my hood and he yelled again, “Is this where you turn yourself in?”

It took me a minute to process his question as this  is not information asked for everyday.  I do not think I really looked like a prison employee in my running duds, but who knows.

I replied with a shrug and said, “I have no idea, but you might try up there.”  I was pointing to a gate with an office that I knew the prison guards used to enter and exit.

When I returned home I laid down for a while.  I had just about fallen asleep when there was a loud banging on my apartment door.  Someone knocking on my door is not a common occurrence in itself, but especially so at 8 p.m.  I arose and found my glasses.  I answered the door attempting to keep myself shielded from the outside as all I had on were boxers and a t-shirt.  Upon my stoop stood a County Deputy Sheriff.

He asked, “Is  there was a  Raymond Somebody in the apartment?”

“That is a negative”, I replied.

Obviously, I did not fit the description on upon his clipboard, and he apologized and left.

Just another day in Memphis.