Cursed out, flipped off and spat on ....

Bizarre story here, folks.

After a long day of Texas Hill Country wine tasting, my friend and I stopped for dinner at a little brewhaus in Boerne, a place called the Dodging Duck (because it's directly across the road from a stream where ducks and geese congregate).

So, as I'm sipping my beer and eating the appetizer, a woman (Woman #1) who looked to be about 45-50ish walks in with another woman who appears to be her mother, whom we'll call Woman #2. Woman #1 has some sort of head and neck tic that is very noticeable and walks with a cane. I notice, then get back to my beer and friend as the couple sits at a table in the corner, across from me and adjacent to my friend. I realized something was wrong with Woman #1, but she and her mother began holding what seemed a normal conversation, so I thought nothing of it. Until it happened.

I began to ramble to my friend about what I had on tap today, one of which was to, "Clean my nasty ass truck." And when I said ass, I lowered my voice so only my friend could hear it -- or so I thought.

"Please don't use that kind of language in my state," Woman #1 said.

In my shock, I zoned out for a second or two and missed a sentence or two.

"That's right. You have the right to a defense," she added.

Realizing that I didn't think the woman had heard me, I replied, "Ma'am? What did I say to offend you?"

"F.U.C.K., that's right. That's what you said."

"No, ma'am. I didn't. I'm sorry, but you misheard me," I told her, then shrugged it off and went back to my conversation.

No sooner than I look away and back to my friend, processing what had just happened, I glanced at Woman #1, who was flipping me off. And it wasn't like a normal flip off, with the middle knuckles bent at a 90-degree angle and the middle finger fully extended. It was a creepy flip-off, one with the middle finger bent and resting at a 45-degree angle back toward the face, and the assisting knuckles (those at the hand) barely above parallel with the ground. She glared eerily at me over the top of the fractured Bird.

"Oh, my God," I told my friend. "She's giving me the Bird."

Realizing something must be wrong, my friend, who's a mental health counselor from Orlando, commented that the woman must be "off her meds."

About this time, with Woman #1 still glaring at me atop her finger, Woman #2 stands up and says that she and Woman #1 "have to leave now." She looks at me and apologizes.

"No, I've had a change of heart," Woman #1 said. "I'm not leaving. I can tolerate him."

Woman #2 looked at me with a sad face and apologized again, telling Woman #1 she was acting inappropriately.

Woman #1 stands up, walks to my table and tried to spit at me, mumbling something that I couldn't understand or really didn't care about. Her mother grabbed her by the arm and led her out.

When the couple left, my friend and I were the only two left in that section of the old house-turned-restaurant (think bedroom). Waitresses came running in, asking if everything was OK. When I told them what happened, they all gave an uncomfortable chuckle and said that sort of thing had happened before, complete with top-of-the-lung yelling and stomping. The waitstaff kept apologizing and brought us a brownie with ice cream for our troubles.

I kept assuring the 20-ish waitress that we weren't upset, especially at them or the restaurant, about what had happened. My friend noted the woman was probably paranoid schizophrenic (that's not even close to being spelled right, probably) and had not taken medicine in a while.

My friend and I chatted about and processed what had happened over the rest of the meal, then laughed about it the entire way home.

So, there's my eventful Monday evening story.

Anyone ever have anything like this happen? Or am I a magnet for crazies?

 

When I saw the thread title and author, I figured it'd be a war protester, or something. But this story is much better.

 

There's a homeless gal who circuits the corner around my downtown building. She appears to be nice to everyone else, except me.
Since I started work here, she has yelled various things at me, including:
"I'm separated from my husband and children because of sluts like you!"
and
"You oughta suck a dick. It would make you feel better."
Folks in my office figure I look like someone who pissed her off at some point. I dunno. I've gotten used to never leaving the building without my MP3 player so I don't have to listen to her.
And you spelled schizophrenic correctly.

 

When she spat at you, that constituted battery.

You had a free, clear shot at her and no jury would've convicted you for decking her.

You showed terrific restraint not taking a swing.

 

Sage words from the lady, Flasher. You should listen.

 

Ooooh, I didn't think about that. But I guess she was protesting, huh?

 

My man is satisfied.

 

Were you in uniform?

 

My friend said I handled it well, too. I guess I was just too shocked to respond in typical three_bags vulgar fashion.

The whole thing probably didn't last three minutes. But it was a long three minutes.

 

No. And my shirt was untucked.

 

By the way, TBF ... I, too, am always a little creeped out by people who flip the Fractured Bird. I don't know why. I guess I just figure if you're going to do something like that, go full out or stay home.

 

No jury?
A trained soldier decks a woman?
Bad advice there.
That said, 3bags, the world is full of dopes.