Ok, you have all been hearing me say I will tell you the story of Killer. Here is is. Jeez. Why me?
Now, it's circa 1973 and I am living in Omaha. I am young and beautiful. ;D And a bartender. I worked at the Holiday Inn on 72nd Street for those who are familiar with Omaha. Least, I THINK it was on 72nd street. I forget. I'm old now.
Anyway, I am a bartender there. The guy who owned the franchise's name was Butch. He'll appear in The Sniper Story another day. :) So, Butch decided that we should all have these cute little floozy outfits to wear. They were very short black skirts (think tennis) with low cut black frilly tops. Little black panties to match. This outfit will appear in yet another story. The Israeli Ring.
Ok, I am on my way to work on evening when I realized I need to buy cigarettes. In those days we all smoked. Cigarettes were about $.90 cents as opposed to $1.25 in the vending machine in the hotel. ;D So, I am in my little floozie outfit but think, ok, I'll just run into the drug store and grab some cigarettes and run out again.
So, I pull into the lot and see that the Universe is smiling upon me despite the fact that I am smoking. Just as I pull up to the front area of the store, a woman is backing out. I turn on my clicker to indicate I am waiting for that space. She pulls out and I am just getting ready to turn into her space when ZOOM! coming directly at me is this behemoth on a huge Harley. He screams into MY parking space. Oh boy. You can take the girl out of New York but you can't take the New York out of the girl. I am pissed.
I throw the car into neutral and leap out of the car screaming," You asshole! You saw me waiting for that space!" And various other nasty things. Do I even THINK that maybe this hairy gorilla in a black leather vest who is 6'5 might hurt me? Nope. I am Woman Dissed! Then the worst thing happens. He laughs at me!
Oh boy. I stomp over to his bike. Now, you gotta picture this. I am 5'9. In those days I weighed in at about 125. I am young and have the requisite long 60's hair. :D And, I have on this ridiculous outfit. I also am all legs. So, Killer is staring at this vision of loveliness screaming awful things at him. I am coming at him like a locomotive because I am going to be late for work because of this jerk. Killer finds this highly amusing. He laughs at me some more which makes me even madder. So, I stomp up to his bike, put a foot on the gas tank and kick his bike over! It goes crashing to the pavement. Most satisfying.
Killer, whose IQ is smaller than his neck size, doesn't have any idea of how to process what just happened. A mere female has just kicked over his precious hog. He is torn between tearing me limb from limb or rescuing his baby which is laying on the pavement making creaking sounds and leaking gas.
Naturally, this all takes place quickly. I am furious and scream a little more at Killer then I hop in the car and roar off. By the time I get to work I know I am now toast. Killer and his band of horrendous creeps will find me and do unspeakable things to me before they kill me. Thinking about this pisses me off again. I am ready to take on Killer.
But, weeks go by and I relax and actually forget that Killer is looking for me. Nothing has happened and Killer obviously didn't realize I had on a uniform. In his dim mind he probably thought that's how women ought to dress. Sigh......
Ok, now more weeks have gone by and I am in a fern bar called Farquar's with some bar pals of mine. For unknown and completely unexplained reasons, half of that bar was occupied by bar people like myself and the other half was occupied by.... yep.... Hell's Angels. Why? No idea. I mean, really. Farquar's was a true 70's fern bar. You know? Blond wood and real ferns? What Hell's Angels were doing there is mystery. Buy they seemed to like it. They didn't bother us and we didn't bother them. Lines in the sand, yanno?
A small aside here. Because I had been in the bar business for many years, I knew just about everybody, including the leader of the Omaha Hell's Angels who was an old (probably 50!) mean little runt called Buzzard. He'd had his legs broken so many times he walked with those arm crutches. Buzzard was about 5'5. And, for unknown reasons, he decided I was his adopted daughter. He watched over me and kept his animals away. Good. I was most happy about this.
So, we walk into Farquar's where I see Buzzard. I wave then go give him a kiss on his cheek. Thank goodness Buzzard knows I am there. :) The rest of the bikers grunt and I go to the bar with my friends. It's always amazing the number of weird and strange people I know.
Now, a while goes by and I have to pee. There is a long hallway running away from the bar towards the back of the building. You had to walk by a door into the bar proper to get to the bathrooms. I am about halfway there when the men's room door opens and who comes out? Yep. Killer.
He takes one look at me and starts bellowing. I am immediately transported back to the parking lot and, once again, my New York comes out. Killer is charging down the hall at me. I start yelling, "Get away from me, you asshole!" Killer is making incoherent noises some of which sound like..."I'm gonna kill you, B****"
Lots of commotion from the bar and all of a sudden there is Buzzard. Calm ensues. Killer is about 6 inches from chewing on my neck. Buzzard wants to hear the story. He asks me, 'Honey, why is Killer mad at you?" I tell him. The entire time, Killer is standing there hanging his head like a 5 year old! I finish my story and Buzzard askes, 'Killer, is this right?" Killer grudgingly agrees that is exactly what happened.
Buzzard's face is twitching and I know I am saved. He says, 'Honey, you really kick over this man's hog?" I said, " yes, he took my parking space." Buzzard is having a hard time not laughing but he gets a grip and tells me that it is practically death to touch a man's bike. I am fuming now so Buzzard tells me to apologize for kicking over the bike. Before I can leap at him, he tells Killer to apologize for stealing my space. Buzzard does and so do I. Buzzard is happy until he sees the look on Killer's face. He then turns to Killer and tells him I am 'Off Limits". If anything happens to me, Killer is toast. Killer slinks away, i give Buzzard another kiss on his leathery old cheek and all is well.
And the moral of this story? Don't smoke. Lots of danger in smoking. Some of it on 2 wheels. :D