I've been a police officer for more than 25 years, devoting the last 6 to the Tampa Police Department working a beat near the Tampa International Airport.

My life is pretty routine.. I wake up every morning, put on a pot of coffee for my wife, Marge, and take our lab/shepard mix, Nelson, for a brisk jog. I don't eat much breakfast, since I had that gastrobypass surgery 2 years ago. I guess I don't really eat much at all. I usually drink a glass of OJ with that added calcium "for healthy bones". I'm not a young colt anymore, and I decided two years ago, "It's high time you start taking better care of yourself, Lloyd, you old man!"

January 6th started just like any other day, only with one slight change. I'd had a dream the night before. Now, this may not be much for excitement for you kids, but let me tell ya, I haven't remembered a dream since... well.. since I can remember. Let's put it like that. Not only THAT, but it was a dream containing events that I hadn't recollected in over 40 years, since my family moved to Florida when I was 16 years old.

I knew today would be exciting.

The dream, as I remember it, was of when I was a young boy, in Denver, CO. I had just received my very own pair of skis, and I was itching to hit the trails. So here I was, ready to go... I had everything I needed, so I started off, down the hill. Picking up speed, I decided to be a little courageous, and try some advanced turns and such. Suddenly, I hit some powder, (that's snow that hasn't been packed) and was plummetting down, with no balance straight for a *gasp* TREE!

When I came to, I could feel the needles piercing my arm, as is often felt when a bone is broken. I knew I had to get down the hill for help, so I got up, skis (miraculously) still attached to my feet, and began the slow progress down the hill, using my pole as a crutch, and the other one for a split to keep my arm elevated.

Then, I woke up.

While I ironed my uniform, I rubbed my arm for nostalgia, thinking back on those days in the snow. I missed it back in Colorado, but you know what they say, "You can always go home, but you can never go back.." or something like that.

My first pull of the day was a family of 3 traveling with enough luggage to fully clothe the entire U.S. Navy. "Must be headed up North" I thought to myself as I walked to the driver's window.

"Good morning, young man." The boy couldn't have been over 25, with a cheery disposition, but a nervous look on his face.

"G-Good morning, officer. What seems to be the problem?" he stuttered out. No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the woman in the passenger seat, whom I can only assume to be his mother, knocked him up the back of the head. "Scott! MANNERS!"

We briefly discussed the speed limit, the weather and the new year. He was a nice boy, and they seemed like a nice family. Apparently, they were in a hurry to be at the airport to catch a flight. I kept them a little longer than I normally would have, to prove my point. Speeding never helps.

As I tipped my hat to the group and turned to leave, a thought crossed my mind. All that luggage. "Where ya headed?" I asked the family.

The boy responded, "Denver, Colarado, for a family vacation."

"Y'all be careful, and watch out for the powder.. It'll get ya every time!"

I wasn't sure why I said it, but I did. In hindsight, they probably thought I was just a crazy old man!

I wonder how their family vacation went...