You don’t spit into the wind
Traffic engineers are generally very calm and laid-back characters, ranking right up there with sewage treatment plant engineers. If you ever get the (misguided) urge to see one of them go absolutely ballistic, try stealing one of their traffic counters. Like a surgeon without their scalpel, a surveyor without their theodolite, a Rottweiler without its bone (preferably without the person still attached), the traffic engineer is rendered completely impotent without this tool of their trade. Combine that with totally messing up a five-day survey of traffic volumes, and you have one traffic engineer who has gone way beyond taking umbrage. (A classic Jim Croce tune comes to mind here.) There are currently no suspects, but a huge, Karmic traffic jam probably looms in their future.
Like a Bad Penny …
A concertgoer at a popular Woodinville beer-centric venue behaved like a boorish boomerang each time he was trespassed from the premises. Although the “Welcome” mat had long since been pulled, our rascally reprobate repeatedly attempted re-entry. With patience wearing as thin as a Ritz-Carlton sandwich, our people in blue rolled out the mat at a different setting: The Police Station.
Some things just don’t work well without other things: Heart without soul; Yin without yang; boat without motor. As yin and yang correspond to evil and good, in this case, we have the good boater and the evil motor poacher. Our pancosmic pilferer tampered with the balance of the universe with the levitation of this most vital accouterment. With nary a clue left behind, we must wait for the entropy of the cosmos to balance out by some other means.
Party hearty, dude
Have you ever heard over the PA, “Well, that concludes our evening’s scheduled activities,” and thought to yourself, “Party ON!”? In spite of the generous libations offered as part of a popular local wine tour excursion, some mischievous miscreants decided that this party must go on. As departing guests were reminded to retrieve their personal belongings, a privately-owned case of vodka and wine belonging to the hosts was retrieved and invited along to a subsequent gala by our festive fugitives, address unknown.