I saw the people illuminated by flashlights and a campfire. They were at the corner campsite on a rough road that looped through the trees. I could tell by the motions of the figures that a confrontation of some sort seemed to be happening. I stopped my car in front of the spot and reached for my uniform cap. A feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach gripped me as I got out of the car, flashlight in hand.
As I got nearer, I could hear angry male voices. The night air was still and cool on my skin. I had a moment of regret for taking this assignment as security for the campgrounds. But the company boss had been persuasive; she even offered to lend me a guard dog. The dog was not fully trained she had said. I didn't want to deal with it. I was having second thoughts about that too.
As I got closer to the group, I saw two men in front of the fire pointing their fingers at each other as they argued. The one on the left had a beer bottle in his other hand. There was a second man, wearing bulky shorts and a tee shirt, standing with the man on the left. A woman in shorts and a sleeveless top and two kids stood behind the other man in front of their camper. I shined my flashlight at their faces and spoke in what I hoped was a clear voice.
"What seems to be the problem here?"
I had learned in the army to project confidence when I had to challenge someone. Experience with drunks at parties and dances had taught me not to be aggressive with them. Their default response would likely be to push back. I was still in the reserves at the time, in fact security was a way of making more money to supplement my reserve income. But I never planned on situations like this one.
Both men looked at me, stopped talking, and raised their hand to shield their eyes from my flashlight. The one with the beer didn't answer but the other one, who I assumed belonged to the site, did. He wore an undershirt and jeans.
"We were just having a quiet night here when these two A-holes came up and got mouthy. They're drunk."
The other man tried to hide the beer bottle behind his hip. "We were just trying to talk to them, officer."
It occurred to me that with the light in their eyes and me in the shadow, that my guard uniform looked like a police uniform. I decided not to clarify their mistake for them, and played on that.
"Do you have a campsite here?" I asked the man with the beer bottle.
The man who had made the complaint became silent.
The one with the beer hesitated, then answered. "Yes sir." He burped.
"What number is your site?" He needed to think for a moment.
