The Roadkill Hunter

Traumatic times occur in our lives that we forever remember where we were and what we were doing. I’m old enough to remember I was on the school grounds when I learned that Kennedy was assassinated, and I was a few blocks away from the Pentagon on 9/11. You might have attended the same American Humane Conference as I did. Of course, the conference shut down and the smell of burning fuel filled the air. Most of the attendees watched, as all America did, the footage of the airplanes hitting the Twin Towers. A few of us walked the few blocks to see what was happening at the Pentagon.

As the day progressed, the events hit home: what should we do? Flying home was not an immediate solution. I attended the conference with my co-workers from the ASPCA. One of our group managed to rent a van, I think the last one available. It was nuts.

On the way back to Illinois, I invented the Adventures of the Roadkill Hunter. It was a long drive. I proceeded to entertain my fellow riders with episodes of The Roadkill Hunter using my Aussie voice. As our hunter carefully approached the roadkill waiting to see if the flattened piece of fur was either dead or playing possum. After a few hundred miles, my fellow riders gave me an option to either shut up or be left on the side of the road.

When we approached the Champaign Airport, we were stopped by a police car. Clearly, an early morning encounter had not prepared the office for a van full of tire conference goers. It became obvious that the officer didn’t know what to do. Clearly, airport security was stepped up after 9/11, but the plan didn’t include how the police would handle would-be terrorists. The officer didn’t let us approach the airport, nor would he allow us to leave.

The stress in the van was high. I was smart enough not to regale my comrades with another episode of The Roadkill Hunter.

Eventually, the officer allowed us to approach the airport. I suspect that his need for a coffee break outweighed his need to hold us hostage.