I was on the 16th Street Mall, here in Denver, one Sunday, taking advantage of the fact that bikes are allowed to rid there in the Sabbath. I was having a good time dodging in and out among the tourists, the homeless and the mall shuttle buses.
Eventually, I stopped, and grabbed a Diet Coke. I stood on the sidewalk, with my bike against a tree, and listened to a busker playing guitar and harmonica.
"Excuse me, Officer, I need some help."
A homeless guy was walking by me, asking a cop for a hand.
I continued listening to the busker, but the ragged old guy was still beside me, talking to the cop behind me.
"Don't ignore me, man! I'm a person, just like anybody else!"
I looked around behind me, thinking I'd tell the cop to get off his ass and help the guy. But, there was no one behind me. Just then, I realized the old guy was talking to me.
"I'm not a cop," I said to him, amused at the thought.
"Yer socks say different..." he muttered, as he moved off.
I looked down and, sure enough, I had worn my navy blue "POLICE" socks that I had bought through the employee order program at the shop.
Hmmm...Maybe there is a reason they aren't supposed to be available to the general public.