"Three."
"Go back to your site, stay there for the night, and don't wander around with open alcohol."
The man with the beer nodded. He said, "Come on," to his silent buddy and they walked past me out to the road.
I followed them with my flashlight, not wanting to give them too good a look at my uniform. I was worried I might have lost control of the situation if they realized I was only a security guard.
Once they had left the other man, who had been silent, spoke angrily to me. "Is that all you are going to do?"
I took a moment to collect my thoughts. The man wanted more from me, but there was nothing else I could do. The two drunks had cooperated. I wasn't sure if this man knew I wasn't a cop. As I recall, I continued to play the part.
"They're gone. I'll report them to the campground owners in the morning. I'll be doing patrols through here all night, but I don't think they'll be back."
The man's wife touched her husband on the arm. "It is okay." The man grunted and mumbled something as I turned to walk back to my car.
I walked slowly back to the car and became aware of the anxiety in the pit of my stomach dissolving. I remember glancing up at a mostly clear sky and stars. A few fluffy grey clouds were on the horizon. I got into the car, took off my cap, and let out a deep breath.
I started the car, backed out onto the road, and slowly drove by site three. As I went by, I could see a campfire, but no one was there. The light was on in the camper parked there, and there was a pick-up truck parked by the road. I continued on back to the guard booth at the entrance to the campgrounds.
It occurred to me that maybe bringing along the dog would have been a good idea. I did not have any backup or even a radio if I had needed help. The only phone was at the booth at the campground entrance. I felt vulnerable at the time.
I unlocked the booth door and went in, then sat at the small wooden desk. In the side drawer, I found a blank Occurrence Report. I filled it in and described, briefly, what happened. I tucked the completed report into the logbook, then eased back in the chair. It was going to be a long night. My military training with the army reserves had prepared me for such nights.
I learned in jobs like that the importance of presence and remaining outwardly calm, regardless of how I might feel on the inside. That night, I also came to realize that a uniform did not make me invulnerable.
