Some years ago, I set off to have my very own meteor shower viewing. Because I lived in a densely populated area, I found one with low light pollution, created a route and timeframe, then eagerly awaited the day the Perseids would be visible without special equipment.

The drive was about half an hour away in completely unfamiliar territory. The further I got from the the city I lived in, the darker it got. Most of the route was a straight, narrow road with what looked to be cornfields to either side. It was truly unnerving, but also hope-instilling, since it made me feel like I'd finally be able to cross this item off my bucket list.

This thought was quickly interrupted by the navigation app on my phone,

"You have arrived."

I started decelerating the car, but saw no signs of, well, anything. I figure things might make more sense once I've pulled over.

No such luck.

Checking my phone, I definitely put in the correct address; it just happened to be an empty field. It would be another year before I have this opportunity again, so I fought off the anxiety looked to the sky. Without the telephone wires and buildings marring the view, the sky seemed so vast I began to feel a slight sense of vertigo.

But an hour passes, and nothing but still lights sat above me.

I even took to an app I recently downloaded, to point me in the correct direction of where the meteor shower would be in relation to where I was in the world. After some more neck straining, I decided:

"I'll give this another few minutes, then I'll head out. Better luck next time."

Just when it felt like my concentration was at its peak, I began to feel a slight warmth creep across the right side of my face, followed by the sight of familiar blue and red lights strobing beside me. A police car had just manifested itself beside me.

And I turned into a goddamn statue.

Now, I hadn't done anything wrong, and I've interacted with police officers before with a relatively high success ratio; but, it's important to keep in mind this was when media was in a frenzy about investigations regarding police brutality, excessive force, unarmed perpetrators and the like. The officer eventually steps out of his car, and simply greets me,

"Hey there. Is everything alright?"

I come to, and realize I need to give an appropriate response, but couldn't quite figure out how.

"Um? Yeah. Yes, it is. And you?"

Smooth. The officer doesn't miss a beat, though,

"We got a report of a car stopped out on the side of this road; thought it might be a flat tire, dead battery, empty gas tank...?"

"No, all my tires are fine, the battery's good, and I have at least half a tank left. It's all good. Everything is fine. I think. I'm just waiting for a meteor shower."

"What?"

So I start to explain to the officer what meteor shower I'm looking to see, and all the mythos behind the Greek God its respective constellation is named after before eventually realizing something. He didn't say "what" because he didn't understand what I was doing; he said it because I was mumbling, and didn't hear what I said. So I just eventually stopped talking, sighed, and continued,

"I'm not allowed to be here, am I? I'll go, if not. Like, immediately. Just say the word, and I'm gone. You don't even have to tell me to go, actually; I'll just leave."

He said there was nothing wrong with me being there, and that everything was fine; they were just responding in kind to the call they received. He wished me luck, and left just as silently as he came.

The beacon colors started to fade from the afterimages in my eyes, and I sighed a breath of relief. Ready to leave, despite the officer's assurance I didn't have to, I stood up from the hatchback of my car and stretched, taking one last glance to the sky.

At that moment, a single fireball streamed across the sky, hissing with a static-like intensity as it passed. Fearing I had exhausted all of the luck I had for the year, I made my way back home, and eventually, to sleep.