I don’t know how many of you readers know me personally, but those of you who do know me realize that I have an extensive knowledge of seemingly useless facts floating around in my head at all times.
These facts have little relevance on the everyday occurrences in my life or the lives of others, but from time to time, they do come up in casual conversation. (Okay, so I lied. I force them to come up in casual conversation.)
Which brings me to two points. First of all, I feel that it is my mission in life to disseminate as much of my useless knowledge to others. Secondly, I am a full-time student. I also (obviously) work at The Nicholls Worth. But most importantly, I am – get this – a park ranger.
You heard (read) me. I am a U.S. National Park Ranger. I have a uniform. I have a “Smokey the Bear” looking hat, I have official ranger shoes, and I even have a badge that is made out of actual metal and is gold-plated.
Right now, 98 percent of you are wondering where a park ranger would “range” in a town like Thibodaux. This is where the dissemination of my useless knowledge comes in.
The surprising thing is that if any of you have ever entered the public library in Thibodaux, you haven’t just gone to check out a book or pay a fine, you have entered a national park.
The Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve’s Wetlands Acadian Cultural Center to be exact. And it cannot be escaped. Not so long as you want to go to the library, that is.
The whole building was restored by the park service and opened to the public in 1992. And guess what, the building is nearly 100 years old. It houses a museum, an art gallery, a 200-seat theater, an outdoor boardwalk and Cajun Music Jam Sessions every Monday night.
Now that you know that there is a national park in Thibodaux and that I wear a uniform closely resembling that of a giant Girl Scout, you’re probably wondering what exactly it is that I do whilst in that ever-so-stylish gray and green uniform of mine.
As a park ranger, I get to meet some of the coolest people from the most far away places you can imagine. People come to our museum from places like Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands, England, Ireland, Scotland, South America, India, and of course, France and Canada. Every day someone from one of these nations or from another on of our 50 states waltzes in on purpose. They didn’t just get lost trying to find Highway 90. They meant to come to Thibodaux so they could see a national park.
Other things I do as a park ranger is help to find new exhibits to fill up our art gallery. I also do research on the area’s history, and it pays off just about every day when I tell a visitor something they didn’t know before they came in. (This part of my job really ties in with my dissemination of useless information mission.)
Right now, 98 percent of you are once again wondering what would posses the park service to place a national park in Thibodaux, the answer to that question is a different story, which includes a bunch of park service type words like “interpretation,” “preservation,” and one of my favorites, “enabling legislation,” so I won’t get into that right now.
Now, here’s my problem. Many days, I will go out in public on my lunch hour or on my way home from work in my uniform. Not one of those public appearances goes by when I am not cornered in Rouses, Quiznos, Wal-Mart or Burger King by the 98 percent of you out there who want to know the answers to one of the following questions:
From those who think that I am a game warden:
1. How much is it going to be for a hunting license this year?
2. Have ya’ll been catching many people spotlighting deer?
3. Can my little boy fish without a license if he’s under 10?
From those who think that I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy:
1. Where is your gun?
2. Can you tell my child who is rolling on the floor of Rouses screaming for a Pez dispenser that you will arrest him/her if they are not quiet for Mommy/Daddy?
3. Where are the speed traps in town?
4. Why were there sirens at three in the morning down my road?
From those who think I am a security guard:
1. Are ya’ll hiring?
2. Do you get a lot of time to study while you wait for the library to close?
Throughout this article, I have referred to 98 percent of you people. This is because there are 2 percent of you who have already cornered me at Rouses, Quiznos, Wal-Mart or at the park, and I have calmly and carefully explained all of this to you.
Now that 100 percent of you have been exposed to who I am and what I do, I only ask one thing: DO NOT: call me a security guard, sheriff’s deputy or a game warden. If you do, I will be carrying a copy of this article, and I will make you listen to every word of it right then and there in Rouses, Wal-Mart or Quiznos. Just thought I’d warn you.,
