In broad daylight

The other day while driving past the grassy knoll with Alicia, she pointed at a beat up pickup driving across the field nearby. "What is that truck doing?" I turned and appraised it. It might have been white once, but was now a pale shade of dirt. There were no other identifiers painted on the doors, no insignia. But I pointed to the back, where some shovels were visible, and said, "It's just a groundskeeper or caretaker." "Yeah, that's probably right."

Driving a bit further, though, and the idea that it might have been something else was a fun topic. Because, seriously, if you were going to be ballsy about burying something that you didn't want found, be it a body (gasp!), money, or the lost Ark of the Covenant, wouldn't that be the way? Just get a crappy pickup, toss the stuff in the back, and drive into downtown Dallas. People might be curious for about 5 seconds, and then, "Eh, it's just a caretaker. Or maybe one of the electric cable guys."

It reminds me of being back at UNT, where I had a tendency to clamber up to assorted perches on trees and walls to read/people watch/blow bubbles/have in depth philosophical discussions. People don't look up. You could throw acorns at them, talk to them, or shower them with bubbles, and most people look frantically around and behind them. I believe the results of a casual study I undertook found that only about 61% look up, and only 3% look up first. It was hiding in plain sight, and quite fun.