Well, this past weekend was quite eventful. My parents came down and I watched my dad compete in the Charleston Scottish Games. He’s a grade 4 bagpiper. I had a short show, but still managed to sell a CDJ Clemson had a terrific but heartbreaking game. However, the biggest story happened on Friday when Cyndi was almost hit by a car.
Cyndi was crossing Calhoun Street walking to her car after work. The street is four lanes with multiple crosswalks due to the campus environment. One car had stopped at the cross walk and the driver was waving Cyndi on to walk across. As she passed that car another camp barreling down the other lane going 50mph in a 35 towards a redlight. Cyndi stopped on a dime and was leaning forward almost falling when the car slammed on the breaks and skidded through the crosswalk. The mirror of the car brushed her stomach, but she was okay. This would have been enough of a traumatic event, but the jackass in the car actually started yelling – at her. Cyndi waved him off saying she was okay and finished crossing the street. Well, jackass decided to pull a U-turn in traffic and come after her. He chased her down the street yelling at her telling her, “You could have ruined my life. You stupid bitch. I have a wife and kids . . .” Cyndi politely told him he was in the wrong, but noone was hurt so just drop it. Well, Yankee eventually got out of his car and came after her saying he was going to take her ID badge and report her to the University. Well, at this point the teller that saw Yankee almost kill my wife and then come back to finish the job came ran out of the bank and got between Cyndi and the Yankee. Cyndi ran into the bank and the teller told the man she was calling the police. He didn’t have the audacity to enter the bank, but had not left when Cyndi called me. I left work to pick up my wife with a knife in one hand hoping that poor bastard gave me an excuse. For those that know me, think about the irrational frying pan story to explain my state of mind. I was that pissed, and I had a real reason to be. Well, I guess Yankee dashed home to tell his wife about the Southern Belle he threatened because he was nowhere to be found. Cyndi was too shook up to drive. So, I took her home and we picked up the car after dinner. She still went into shock when we picked up her car because the 6’ jerk had scared her that bad.
Some of you may be offended by my use of the word Yankee. Don’t be. The man was 6’, had brown nice cut hair, a full build, 35-38 years old, and a northern (NY or New Jersey) accent. That’s all I have on him. So, in short, he was the stereotypical picture of a Yankee I have had since childhood-rude, loud, heartless, and self-absorbed. Anyone fitting that description can get the hell out of my state. Yankee-go home.
Music Headquarters
3 comments:
Preach on, the only ones worth keeping are those that convert to the southern way of life. Thsoe folks who fit this catergory know who they are. The rest should be like good little hemorhoids and head back from which they came.
Wait....so what am I?
Agent, we've tried to keep this from you for some time, but you're special. You're our special boy.
Obviously, I am no different from anyone reacting to an attack. People tend to stereotype during stressful events. It's unfair to call all Yankees jerks. This particular yankee was a jerk.
You, my friend, are special. Yes, you are loud and annoying at times, but you also would never chase a young woman down the road in your car and threaten her after almost killing her. I'm simply saying all yankees with that particular dispostion, can leave my state.
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