Eating Alone in A Chili’s Restaurant On a Friday Night: A Performance Piece
I have a pretty hard time communicating with people in general, but when I first started grad school there was a lot of international students from India and I was worried that the language barriers would be too much for me - but one day a guy was giving a presentation on his laptop with a Bret Hart background and I stood up and said “PINK AND BLACK ATTACK!” He immediately yelled “EXCELLENCE OF EXECUTION” and I was like man, that is beautiful wrestling really does bring the world together.
A long time ago my grandpa used to tell me a story about a family member that lived around here somewhere in the late 19th century, or at least long ago enough that you could be jailed for gettin’ smooth up in somebody else’s wife.
It was a small county jail, so there was one other inmate and a sheriff. That night, the sheriff got news that the county was going to have to hold another prisoner over night - the guy being transferred was going to go to trial for a pretty heinous murder, although I suppose all murders are pretty heinous. Regardless, a number of citizens were gathering to lynch the guy before he could get to a trial.
The sheriff asked the other guy and my family member to give him a hand in holding off the lynch mob, even though the certainly had nothing to gain by doing so. Both men agreed, and the sheriff gave them shotguns so they could stand guard overnight.
Nobody was hurt, and they prevented the mob from killing the prisoner. The next day the prisoner was transferred out of town.
The sheriff told the two guys he was going to let them go as thanks, but also to get the fuck out of town so he’d never see them again. They obliged. My ancestor eventually made his way over to California.
I think what I took from that story is that the right thing to do and the good thing to do aren’t always the same.
One of the greatest, bitter ironies of my life is that before dad passed I had no interest in riding a motorcycle, and now that I have to get the endorsement to keep his bike, the one man who could have taught me is gone.