One more thing about the
young man with the tail that occurred to me. There was one other piece of data that I didn't think at the time was relevant but, upon thinking, may have been. He was holding a notebook, and embossed upon it was the phrase "Centralia Police Department."
It was an odd detail, but while it didn't seem to fit with the rest of package, it didn't not fit either, if that makes sense. I've known quite a lot of furries, and quite a few of them had odd tics and habits, and more than a few have a strange fascination with law enforcement, or guns, or both.
Then
bldrnrpdx mentioned that maybe he was being hazed, or had lost a bet. I have another explanation. Centralia is a small town about 75 miles south of where I live, famous for
Crazy Sam's billboard, a primitive way of getting your message across before the era of blogs. It's one of those towns you just pass through on your way between Seattle and Portland, lots of cows. I dismissed the notebook as another furry quirk.
But then it occurred to me: The state's biggest police academy, the
Washington State Criminal Justice Training Center, is in my home town. It's a few bus stops south of where I (and this other fellow) got off the bus, but it's still within walking distance if you're healthy. And while he got off the bus walking toward the Starbucks, which is in the other direction from the police academy, I think that an alternative explanation is this: he was studying to be an undercover cop, and learning how to deal with standing out.
Thinking on it, it makes more sense. The tail was new, a bright and shiny and freshly bought raccoon's, as was the t-shirt. It couldn't have been laundered more than few times, it still had the essential blackness and strong print of a new purchase. The rest of his clothes were well-worn, and his chinfull of post-Miami Vice stubble was weak and patchy.
If he was an undercover cop, he failed this round. Hmm, wonder if I should go to some upcoming local furry cons and see if I spot him again.