A Case of Mistaken Identity.

   
  We all want to feel important and have felt important at one time or another, from your child looking up at you asking your advice, to the spouse taking your hand and your lead.
  One Saturday, a couple of weeks ago, we had gotten up early to watch hot air Balloons in Prosser. Back home I worked in the yard, for a while before Jan came out and asked that we go to the Central Washington State fair. She didn’t know that I kind of wanted to go to the fair. I only asked that we had a plan.
  We made it up there in good time, parked in the main parking lot, and headed to the gate. Halfway to the gate for the parking spot, I realized that I had forgotten my cell phone. Since the cell phone replaced the walkie-talkie long ago, we couldn’t go on without it. She decided to go back.
  Darrel in hand, I continued to the gate and she being of better health went jogging back to the car. A few minutes later I was at the end of the row and could see, Jan running to catch the Tracker and trailer, Transport offered by the fair grounds people.
  I stood there watching the tracker creep along in direct sun light when a car stopped in front of me and asked out the opened window. “So where do you want me to park.”
  I thought about telling him to ask someone else that gave a crap where he parked, but settled on, “There are open spotted down this way.” I watched as he turned and disappeared up the roll in search of parking.
  The very next car looked over and questioned with their hands. I once again motioned up the roll. Turning around I looked for the spouse and back, only to find another car waiting for my instruction. “Oh, come on.” I remembered thinking.
  From a behind I heard someone talking and turned. It was two people walking towards, Darrel and I. They wore bright orange shirts, obviously parking attendants. The older man was asking the younger man to go up the roll and count the spots. I re-laid the info I knew about the two rows I had been up and looked over and once again someone was waiting to know where to park.
  The parking guy looked over me and laughed, just before he said,” I bet you wished you had worn something different. I looked down and there was the answer, a bright Orange shirt. The only thing I could think of was that I was glad I didn’t tell the first guy off. Darrel thought was awesome (Darrel’s catch phrase) that everyone asked me to help them park. For a little while I guess I felt a little more important, even if it was just a case of mistaken identity.