Well, I've had an interesting morning. Got punched in the head at the grocery store.
A little background: I live in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, which is basically the heart of Appalachia. It's not the most diverse area of the country. There's a young woman who works at the local Food Lion who's from Iran. I know this because she has the same name as someone I knew back in MD and I asked. She speaks better English than I do, thought she does have a bit of an accent.
Anyway, I'm in line this morning behind a young guy who's all-too-typical over here. He's buying beer and - I found out later - was already drunk off his ###. For whatever reason, the scanner wouldn't check in his purchase. Before the young lady could punch in the code, he says: "come on you ####### dot head!".
(aside: most of the dialogue I'm gonna relate here is not gonna be exact, but close enough and no embellishments)
For whatever reason besides not having patience with those who hate just because, I decided to chip in my couple of shillings.
"There are so many things wrong with your statement that I don't know where to begin. First, by 'dot head' I'm assuming you mean Arab because there aren't all that many Hindu terrorists flying planes into US buildings. Second, she's not Arab - she's Persian, which means she's Caucasian just like your inbred ###".
(I was getting wound up at this point, but could hear my voice shaking; think I was terrified and righteously angry at the same time)
"Third, she's working and you're not ( I have no idea if he was or not). Fourth, betcha you have an EBT card in your pocket and are leeching off the rest of us".
(I said "EBT" but don't know if that's the right term - Food Stamp Credit Card)
"Lastly (and here's what caused him to swing at me, I think), your eyes are set far enough apart that ignorance is all anyone should ever expect from you. Please don't breed, you #### simple mother####er."
That's when he swung. I'm guessing it was because he was drunk - certainly it wasn't my evasive skills as I didn't/couldn't even move - that he hit the side of my head instead of my face. Next thing I know, I'm on the floor shaking my head and he's held by a couple of guys from kicking me.
Someone helped me up and I started to get really mad. You ever got so mad that phrase "I saw red" makes perfect sense? The only thing I could think was to choke that ####er to death - not to punch him or spit at him, but to get my hands around his throat and kill him. I'm guessing whoever was holding me didn't want that to happen.
I'm a little iffy on the passage of time and some of the events that happened after he hit me, but next thing I recall is talking to a Sherriff's deputy. I declined medical attention, but told him I'd press charges. Turns out the dude had warrants, so I recanted on charges as he's got plenty to answer for. Thinking about it now, I should've piled on but I remember the deputy telling me the guy was in big trouble.
Anyway - home and listening to Kasey's Top 40 from this date in 1976.
How's the draft going?