AsiaLIFE

Oun has a brush with the law on a daytrip to the state park with two patients from her nursing home.

It's not her name, but I almost always call my wife “Oun.” That means “honey” in Khmer – the term of endearment, not what honeybees make.

I call my wife Oun because it keeps me out of trouble. Love may mean never having to say you're sorry, but marriage means speaking sweet words every chance you get in hopes of smoothing over whatever it is you did wrong – and husbands are always doing something wrong. But whether you left the toilet seat up or lost a thousand dollars in what seemed a perfectly legitimate business investment, words like “honey” are the most effective balms, especially when it's not your fault.

My wife is eager to become a fully licensed nurse in the United States, but that takes a lot of schooling, and college can be very expensive. To help come up with money for nursing school and valuable experience, Oun got a summer job at a nursing home.

Things went well, and while many of her co-workers were a little odd – or at least dazed and confused – she enjoyed taking care of the residents of the nursing home and listening to their stories. One day when she arrived at work, Jenny her supervisor, invited Oun to ride along with several of the nursing home's residents on a daytrip to a state park. Oun agreed, but thought it was strange that Jenny put two of the elderly residents in the backseat of her car while the rest of the residents boarded the facility's bus. But good employees do what the boss orders, so she hopped in Jenny's car too.

On the way out to the state park, a scenic area of waterfalls and forest a 45-minute drive outside of the city, the two employees talked and Oun learned that Jenny's claim to authority was based on being certified as a medical aide, which in the health care industry is similar to being promoted from scrubbing fryers to flipping burgers in McDonald's.

It was about this time that the red-and-blue lights of a sheriff's deputy lit up the road behind Jenny's car. Jenny promptly went white and started shaking. Oun, more familiar with Cambodian police officers' less than pleasant reputation, assumed that this was because American officers were just as bad. Jenny pulled over, and Oun prepared for the worst.

But Oun was pleasantly surprised. The officer was respectful and helpful, everything you could want in a police officer – unless you happened to be on probation for driving under the influence, which Jenny was. Or driving with a suspended license, which Jenny was. Or in possession of illegal drugs, which, as you can probably guess, Jenny was.

Of course, you can do all these things and escape notice of the police, unless you happen to speed or drive recklessly, which Jenny was. So the officer searched Jenny's bag and found various drug paraphernalia, which only made it worse for Jenny. The police officer called a truck to tow away Jenny's car and all four were left standing on the side of the road. One of their elderly charges started weeping. The other kept trying to wander off.

It was at this point that Jenny mentioned it was against work policy to take any resident anywhere in a private vehicle for any reason. And Jenny, on the side of the road with two nursing home residents with dementia as her car was towed away because she had violated many laws, told Oun they might lose their jobs. So Oun decided to take matters into her own hands – she tried to call me. I was, quite literally, out to lunch. After trying to call me several times, she called the nursing home and asked them to send the bus. The police officer explained to Oun where they were to the bus driver so the bus could find them.

The officer did offer to give her and the residents a ride to the station, but Oun declined. Being locked in the back of a police cruiser was not likely to lift the spirits of her elderly charges. The officer left the four waiting on the side of the highway for the bus to arrive. Jenny, who somehow managed to avoid being arrested, took the opportunity to dispose of yet more drugs she had hidden in her bag.

The bus arrived and took them back to the nursing home, the two residents were tucked back into bed, and Oun was thanked for taking care of the residents in that day's adventures. So she went home and gave me a long lecture about how I needed to improve my phone-answering etiquette on the off-chance she was stranded in the Willamette Valley because of junkie antics.

So I apologised profusely. Apparently Jenny did too, because she didn't lose her job.

Will Koenig is a journalist in Oregon, where he lives with his wife and son. E-mail: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

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