As we all know, today is 9/11. The Prime Geek and I aren't making any real changes in our life today. Thinking back on the past… but trying to focus on the future. Toss in the fact my niece turns 5 today… and its hard to keep myself morbid in the face of a tiny blond wearing a pink tutu.
But. (With me, you always know there's gonna be a but!) I DID decide to top off the gas tank while I was out this morning. We were hovering by the halfway point and I really don't ever like to let it go farther down. Toss in the fact I passed a gas station with prices $0.20 less per gallon then anywhere else, it seemed foolish to pass it by.
I got out of the jeep, and as I started to fill my tank I heard the man on the other side of the pump begin to cuss. Looking up at him, he noticed I had heard and raised his voice. "Yeah, you. You f*&%$# hippy. How dare you show your f#*%^ Anti-American a*& on a day like this! Stupid B&*^!" Normally, I wouldn't engage in a game of wits with someone so woefully underarmed... but I was a bit flabbergasted. I even looked around to see if there was someone behind me casually burning a flag that I had somehow missed seeing. He saw me looking around and actually began to step around the gas tank to come at me. More cursing at this point. Several people from various cars noticed and I saw one man begin to... well, Da's a retired Marine and the Prime Geek has worked in firearms training, I know what an unobtrusive unholstering looks like.
To paint the picture a little clearer... or at least explain my confusion... this ranting gentleman was pointing at my skirt and cursing about my anti-American self. I was (and still am in fact) wearing a black t-shirt on top with a long, almost floor length skirt made from a pair of blue jeans split and gored with hot pink brocade. It has butterflies on it. Last time I checked, I saw no obvious signs of Pro-Al Qaeda images. It's just tiny little butterflies. Not a single turban in sight. But somehow... in this gentlemen's mind, the fact I can sew, and was wearing what could be described as a slightly hippy styled skirt... I was the devil's Queen B.
Now, normally I try to shrug things off. At my height, people assume I must be gay; I try and recycle... so I'm a treehugger. My da's retired military - I must be a warmonger. For the most part, I ignore it. This was a tad bit harder... I lost a friend in 9/11, and more than a few people I care about have worked in very sandy places. But... I usually try and walk away. However... this time? He decided to push it and actually came around the and attemped to shove me against my car.
Did I mention I am using a cane this week because of my ankle? Sadly for the bully, da and several friends made sure their gal knows how to fight. He got a cane to the instep and then a fast pull UP towards the inevitable halt. A small halt, but a halt. Dropped his ignorant butt onto the ground and watched the gentlemen who had been coming towards me grin. Turns out he was an off-duty cop and wanted to know if I was wanting to press charges. Just this once, I am NOT playing good little citizen. I told him "not this time, because if I stay around this nit I might accidentally whack him over the head with my stick. Possibly repeatedly". With that he let me get into my car and leave. Sheesh, some people are dim. At the moment I'm torn between getting rid of the skirt, and wearing it everyday to spite some ignorant knuckle dragging twerps who wander around.
Oh well, what's over is over. I still like the skirt though.
The point? We’re still fighting a war. Americans and our allies are bleeding and dieing to try and set things right. No… I’m not gonna go political here, but there is a point. Remember what happened. Never forget. But don’t let that memory poison you to a stupidity and blindness that forces life to pass you by. Honor all those who have come before by LIVING. Do all that you can to protect those you love, but don’t let the rage of the past make you into the very thing you hate.
Extremists are always the frightening ones. No matter what side of the line you stand on.