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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 motor home 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 motor home 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 motor home?
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 motor home 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 motor
home. 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/.
Del Albright
BlueRibbon
Ambassador, BlueRibbon Coalition Life Member
State Environmental Affairs Coordinator, CA4WDC
Trail Boss, Friends of the Rubicon (FOTR)
Del's Web Site:
http://www.delalbright.com/
Ph: (209) 304-7693 (Cell/Pager)
Ph/FAX: (209) 286-1009 (Office)
8024 S. Main, Mokelumne Hill, CA 95245
