Ranger Pat

Every day I battle on the War on Unemployment. Today was no different. But I tried a different tack. Today I applied to be a Park Ranger. This is for a position in Lower Manhattan giving tours at the African Burial Ground National Monument. How cool would that be? I love to talk to groups, I adore history and I can walk backwards and do like Bonnie Hunt did in that move Dave: "We're walking, we're walking."

But seriously, that uniform. How hot would that be? I mean, especially in the summers, right? That Smokey the Bear hat and those trousers. I would be fighting them off with a stick.

And the material I would get to write a play or novel later. It could be my Elf in my own Santaland Diaries. This could help me really go places. OMG, I want this job.

Of course the application asked for contact numbers and salary figures for all my previous jobs. I did not want to do that so I applied MY way. The government loves individual expression like this. I am certain of it.

But just you wait. I will have been barking up the wrong tree all this time and then SNAP, I am a Park Ranger in New York City strolling through Union Square park tipping my hat and saying "Howdy, Ma'am" and rubbing two sticks together to light the cigarette for a teenager standing outside Port Authority. I will probably chuckle a lot and make some forest fire jokes. I could speak to schools! Too much!

Where there's smoke, there's Ranger Pat.