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After 22 years of land use and
access involvement, I've finally met my first real *wacko.*
I don't mean the harmless, dress up a like an owl and parade
around town kind, I mean the kind that wished me dead.
It started at a gas station where I'd stopped with my motorhome
during a trip from northern to southern California. As I
was filling up, a frumpy looking guy walked buy and said, *How's
it feel to be a pig?*
I thought this was a joke or something, so I said, *Fine.*
Then as Mr. Frumpy (I'll call him) continued to walk towards his
own car, he said, *You realize you're the scum of the earth, a
pig.*
Now I was really confused. But it quickly dawned on me
that he didn't like my motorhome and figured I was gas pig.
So I asked him if he was calling me scum and a pig over the fact
that I owned a motorhome? Well, that did it. Mr.
Frumpy went into a tirade, the likes of which I don't think I've
ever seen in public. I had pushed his button somehow.
Not only did he commence to call me
all sorts of names, but he stood in the middle of the crowed
multi-island gas station with women and kids around, and began a
vulgar, profane-laced rant about me being responsible for
depleting the earth's resources, for *sucking the earth dry* as
he put it. Every fifth word was the f-word.
When he caught a breath, I asked him if he got up on the wrong
side of the bed or had too much coffee, and if he always talked
like this in front of women and children? People were
starting to retreat to the safety of their cars figuring a
battle was going to ensue.
The more civil and logical I was, the more enraged Mr. Frumpy
got. And the more he talked, the louder and more
profane he got. He started shouting that I was reason we
(the US of A) were at war. Imagine that! My 14-year old
motorhome was the cause of war! He kept telling me (and
the crowd) that he wished he could come over and kick my #$@.
In fact, he said that several times -- that he wanted to kick my
you-know-what. I guess the only thing that kept holding
him back was his cowardliness. There was only twenty feet
between us. :)
As he continued his diatribe, he again blamed me for the war
overseas, and said, *You deserve to die.* He meant it too.
He had just wished death upon me. The hate
slobbered from his mouth like foamy spit from a rapid dog.
I had never witnessed anything so ugly, so hateful, so
prejudiced, and so mis-placed.
I am not much on name-calling, but *wacko* is the only word I
can find that fits this guy. He hated my guts over the
fact that I drove a motorhome. Ouch. At one point in
his loud and long-winded verbal assault on me, I asked him if he
belonged to the Sierra Club or the Wilderness Society or ELF or
any such organization. He mumbled yes, but I couldn't tell
if that meant all, one or what. He didn't have the courage
identify any particular organization.
I've met plenty of weirdos and passionate odd-balls in my life,
but this was truly my first encounter with a full-fledged wacko.
In fact, I actually admire folks who believe in their causes
enough to dress up like owls or chain themselves to a tree.
They are just passionate about what they believe in and willing
to stand up and be counted, whether I agree with them or not.
But to have another person wish me dead in public over the fact
that I used more gas than him, was a rude awakening for me. It
was kind of extremely ironic too. He wished me dead
because I used more gas than him. Get it? He was
still using gas in his car. What a dip-wad!
It is a lesson for us all, though. There are people in
this world that don't see things even close to the way we do.
There are people willing to go to extremes to make their point.
911 proved that. There are people filled with hate. Mr
Frumpy proved that. Never lose sight of that.
I advocate using diplomacy in such situations -- a smile and
some honey. Never find yourself on the wrong end of a
physical battle or trying to compete for volume in public.
Keep the high ground as much as possible. Be the example
for others to follow. Let the world see how idiots like
Mr. Frumpy are truly wacko and don't deserve our attention.
Always try to maintain control and be logical when you're
arguing with a ding-bat like this -- up to a point it will work.
But like with Mr. Frumpy, he had a speech (and a threat) to
make. Until he accomplished that, he was not going to
quit.
The sad aftermath of this encounter is that I spent the next
hour watching my rear mirrors to make sure Mr. Frumpy did not
come alongside me with rude intentions. I guess I paid a small
price for standing up for what I believe in. I stood my ground
with him, even though I kept my smile. But the rest of my
trip was tainted just a tad by the encounter. I will not
forget that there are Mr. Frumpy's out there, albeit few and far
between. On the other hand, I choose to not allow wackos to
dictate my freedom and happiness.
Del Albright, internationally
published columnist, BlueRibbon Coalition Ambassador and
Environmental Affairs Coordinator for CA4WDC, has authored
volumes on land use, outdoor recreation, and access for over 20
years. Contact BRC at 800.258.3742 or www.sharetrails.org;
or visit Del's Web Site at www.delalbright.com/.
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