Sometimes I have asked the question, “Now why was it I chose to marry my wife?”
That reminds me of a time I got into a fight with about ten junior high toughs at a JACK IN THE BOX in Belmont Shore, California. It was a beautiful summer afternoon. At the time, I was probably verging on sixty five years old.
My wife and another couple hadn’t yet joined me.
So, I’m walking out of the bathroom and these kids are sitting on both sides of the aisle not eating anything. They’re just lounging around. I walk through them and one kid pushes his skateboard out in front of me and belches. I turn to him and ask him to apologize. Then the others started belching.
It erupts. A punch to the neck is thrown. There’s shouting, pushing, cussing, elbows are thrown, other kids coming in off the street. Customers and workers flee.
Two older gangsta types about thirty run in. They’re with the gang of kids. One of the gangstas confronts me. We start yelling at each other. We’re chest to chest, then nose to nose. He’s about to throw a punch, when out of nowhere my wife appears and quickly wedges herself between me and the gangsta, and starts talking to him. He backs up an inch. All of the sudden my friend from the couple comes in and puts his forearm into my chest and pushes me back up against the counter. He’s around 280 pounds so I can’t move.
I’m still shouting.
My friend, Chuck, tells me to “shut up, and let Cheri take care of things.”
Things start to settle. The gangsta says ok. I’ll back my the gang down and “you get your husband out of here.”
We start walking through the crowd of toughs which now numbers around thirty. Chuck has his hand in my back pushing me toward the car. My wife is walking in front of us. She unlocks the door, and right then someone from the crowd yells out an obscenity. Cheri looks at me and says, “Don’t say a word, keep your mouth closed.”
They see our license plate and start shouting, “Go back to Utah and stay there.”
We slowly exit the parking lot. There are kicks to our bumper. We get onto the Main Street and drive off.
After about five minutes of silence on her part (she’s driving), Cheri says with a high toned irony in her voice, “Don’t you understand? You’re an old man. Chuck and I may not be here next time.”
At that point, the four of us break out laughing.
Now you know why I married my wife.
There Are Always Conflicting Wars Of Ideas Going On Inside Of Us, At Least Inside Of Me