When I was a college student my buddy Bret and I fancied the styles worn by the Fort Worth Police undercover detectives. We marveled at their cars too. White unmarked sedans with a radio wire on the trunk and license plates with the words “Texas Exempt” on them. They seemed like vanity plates. The detectives’ suits were navy blue Seventies sharp and the suit pants no cuffs with a slight flair. Their ties were dark and their hairstyles layered and hairsprayed in place. These investigators could have melted into an executive luncheon.
The undercover female officers impersonating street-walkers were easy to spot too. The true pavement princesses wore blue jeans and a blouse. On a warm day, the officers impersonating them could be seen in cut off shorts; tank top; makeup with rouge lipstick; and a blonde wig or a brunette wig with ringlets. These women had shapely legs and perfectly rounded hips, like they’d stepped out of a Las Vegas wet dream. Their effort caused the real street-walkers to move to another corner and take their clientele with them.
My Dad and I were driving home after a long day at our family downtown restaurant Burger & Shake when we stopped at a traffic light parallel to some undercover officers. I asked my Dad to honk and he did. We waved at the detectives and they waved back. “Who were they son?” my father asked.
“Undercover,” I answered, a smug smile on my face. “You can tell by the car and suits they wear. Bret and I wave at them all the time. They deserve the recognition.”
The light changed and may father’s voice was harsh and direct. “Son that is a horrible thing to do. Those people have a hard enough job as it is and they don’t need you and Bret mucking it up for them. You two need to stop that!”
“Yes sir,“ was my only response. I turned my head and watched the detectives pull away.
We stopped waving at the undercover detectives. One thing was good though. It let the public know their law enforcement was not wasting their tax dollars!
published 27 March 2013