My first real police interaction today.....and it was with the Feds.
I took the woman over to Detroit Metro for a flight out. On the way we stopped in Ann Arbor for a sandwich at Zingerman's Deli. The place was crazy busy but the food is great, expensive, but great. No issues there which surprised me since it's like hippy Mecca. Once we got to the airport we parked and walked in with no problems. She got her boarding passes and I saw her into the long line for security, said my goodbyes and departed.
On the way out two plainclothes (shorts, short sleeve button up shirts, and backpacks) TSA agents came up behind me. I have a recording but I can't edit the thing down and since it's only about 1:30 of a 27:00 .wav file I'll just type it out.
TSA: (I didn't know he was a TSA officer at this point) Are you a police officer?
Me: Nope.
TSA: Why do you have a firearm?
Me: I carry one every place I am legally allowed.
TSA: (pulling out badge) Can we talk for a minute?
Me: Sure, lets get over to the side out of these people's way.
As we are walking off to the side the urge to speak overwhelmed me and I volunteered "I just finished dropping off my girlfriend and now I'm heading out." The urge to speak is strong, which is why I try not to criticize those that do it during a stop.
Now we are off the moving sidewalk and over to the side of the hallway.
TSA: First, here are our IDs so you know we are really the police.
Me: (taking the time to read their credentials and comparing the pics to their faces) Thank you.
TSA: Can I see your ID?
Me: Am I legally required to show you my ID?
TSA: (looking at his partner, then back to me) I just want to see your ID.
Me: You've been nice, so I'll be nice. Here you go.
TSA: I'm a CPL holder myself. Is that a 1911?
Me: Yup.
TSA: Cocked and locked, the only way to carry it.
TSA: (while looking at my ID) Has this happened to you before.
Me: Just a couple of times when an officer has informed me my gun was showing and I said "thanks officer, that's how I keep it." and that was the end of it.
TSA: Ok, here you go. Thanks.
Then they turned and walked away and I was left to figure out where the hell I parked. All in all it was very short and they were professional and courteous the entire time.
That's not an exact transcript but it's pretty darn close and it has all the main points, warts and all.
I know I wasn't required to show my ID or to even speak with them. I was there and it was my call and that's what seemed appropriate at the time. Under different circumstances I may have done differently. Although I will in the future refrain from volunteering information. As soon as I did that my brain was yelling "what the hell are you doing? This won't help you. Shut up!"
After the airport I stopped into Dick's Sporting Goods in Taylor since I've never been to one of their stores (from a firearms standpoint this store is pathetic, don't waste your time). Then I went to Little Daddy's Family Restaurant for some greek food. No issues at either of those places.
And then their was the creepy van in the rest area.
I pulled into a rest area off of 94. It's right in the middle of some construction and you have to get off on an exit and detour around to the rest area. Consequently the place was deserted. Two big-rigs idling on the truck side and nobody on the car side.
I parked in the first non-handicapped spot and went in to take care of my business. When I came out there was a panel van parked in the spot next to my driver's door, which of course puts the van's side door right next to my car. It was just before dark and there was nobody else around. I could see somebody in the driver's seat but couldn't really make any features out. I walked by somewhat slowly with my strong side to the van and walked over to the passenger side of my car, grabbed some trash and took it back up the building to toss it. While I was walking back they pulled out and left.
I have no idea if there was something nefarious going on but I didn't like that they parked right next to me when there were other closer handicapped spots available.
Bronson