I'm feeling like a criminal

Today I experienced one of my infamous Memphis adventures that just has to be shared with all of my loyal blog readers. This morning I had a much needed appointment at my recently relocated hair salon. Because I was not exactly sure where it was, I got up early, printed out my trusty MapQuest directions, and called a cab an hour before I had to be there. Surprisingly, it only took me about 20 minutes to get picked up, so I arrived in the area a half hour early. My new salon is located in a ritzier neighborhood as part of a series of small shops. Most of them were not open until 10 am, so after popping in a luggage store which sold Vera Bradley bags, I headed to my appointment. Although my stylist was running a bit behind, I got a sassy haircut and then decided to have lunch at the Fox and Hound, an English pub. Since it's Saturday, I am dressed in my usual casual weekend attire-a Cubs jersey, jean shorts, and sneakers. I blended in just fine at the sports bar and had a nice chat with my server about the Cubbies and the Yankees. After finishing my cheeseburger and fries, I decided to stop in a couple more shops since they were now all open. After browsing in a few places and finding nothing, I went to a pet store called Wags & Whiskers and picked up a cute baseball dog toy for King's birthday. It was getting close to noon, so I decided to buy an ice cream cone and sit on a bench outside one of the shops to wait for my cab.

Since I have lived in Memphis for almost 4 years, I am well versed in the unpredictability of public transportation. Sometimes I can get a cab in 5 minutes; sometimes it takes over an hour. So after chilling for about 30 minutes, I call the cab company back and ask how much longer it will be until someone can pick me up. About 10 minutes after this call, a police car pulls up right next to the curb where I am sitting. I look around to see if any criminals are on the loose. Then I remember this guy in a purple shirt staring at me twice and running inside. It occurs to me that perhaps they think I am loitering since I have been in the area for about 3 hours at this point. As soon as I get in the cab, the police officer drives away. Apparently I looked dangerous and they felt the need to have someone keep an eye on the suspicious character in the Cubs jersey. The last time I checked, there was no crime against sitting outside on a nice day. All I can figure is that I did not fit the yuppie mold of the neighborhood and they determined by my attire that I was a damn Yankee. Anyway, I guess the next time I decide to get a hair cut, I better be dressed to the nines so no one calls the authorities...