At the Titans game, Uncle Bud Adams spared no expense to assemble crack police officers from Spring Hill and other areas, spreading the wealth to the hustings.
I had decided to park at a free meter on James Robertson and ride my fat tire unicycle to the tailgaters, because the cruise speed on that sucker is a nice brisk run. Perfect vehicle for threading through crowds rapidly.
So I park my unicycle and lock it to a tree next to some tailgaters.
Come back a few hours later, unicycle gone. Talk to the cops. They had confiscated it. Told me the tires could have been loaded with C-4 explosive. They weren’t too worried, I have to say, because they were merrily riding all over the stadium in their golf cart with the unicycle perched in the back.