spill

“Don’t cry over spilled milk. It could have been beer.”~ Author Unknown

Last night, I traveled to Waco, Texas because #1- I can and #2- I was invited to attend a show there which headlined the band, P.O.D.

There will be a full blog post about my travels and experiences about that much later.

I wanted to focus on a group of people that I had the unfortunate displeasure to have crossed paths with.

Although as they say, when it becomes a thing of the past and you look upon it then you will just laugh and laugh and laugh.

I ain’t laughing yet….. that much!!!

As I was familiarizing myself with the venue, I had the sorrowful duty to attempt to manage to get myself around as best as I could while dealing with rather THICK carpeting.

I had turned the corner and hadn’t been talking, hadn’t bothered anyone, and I passed up a group of gentlemen.

Suddenly, my arm and chest and all the way down to my hip felt wet and very cold.

These “gentlemen” were a group of friends and were involved in a serious match of horse play when one of them spilled their beer all over me.

Now I realize that they didn’t simply just THROW it on me or DUMP it on me, nevertheless the guy’s glass was empty in a fraction of a second and I was dripping with the contents of that glass.

Suddenly their incessant giggling and immature shenanigans came to a most abrupt end and conclusion. So much so that they pretty much kept to themselves quiet the rest of the night…. even after I had moved.

I looked at my coat sleeve as it dripped of nasty and cheap beer from the forearm to the hand and down the fingers to one side of my lap.

Looking up slowly, I saw three or four faces frozen in shock and in horror. And best of all: fear.

I didn’t say a word. Not even a grunt or a peep. I turned away from them and kept moving on.

The rest of the night, the guilty party continually came up to me after it was all said and done, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, and apologizing some more. I continued to stay quiet. propper-100-cotton-ripstop-bdu-1

Here’s the inside scoop on this story and probably the REAL reason as to why they were so adamant about being sorry and letting me know about how sorry they were:

The photograph of the jacket is called a “BDU” in the military.

I was wearing one. My brother got one for me while he was serving in the Army.

I had my name across it. I had military patches and other insignia up and down the sleeves. It looks legit even though it is not. Because I am not a Colonel, nor enlisted in the United States Army. I do however, like the insignia and symbol of the rank of Colonel.

Eagles, anyone?

These guys convinced themselves without any help of anyone else of the outside world, that a beer had been spilled upon a member of this country’s military veterans.

The next thing I know, they were offering to buy me drinks the rest of the night. They were wanting to take me out to eat. They were willing to purchase expensive band merchandise. They even offered to bring me to the next big show and pay for my ticket. All of this, without my consent or approval.

I honestly believe that these people were fearing some kind of massive retribution on my behalf as a consequence for their immature actions. And they were attempted to mend the wrong with showering me with gifts, to ensure that retribution would not be received.

The sad part is that people are going to believe what they want to believe. It does not matter whether or not you attempt to right their mistakes, they will do and believe what they want. No matter how many times I tried to tell them to just drop it… they insisted. And no matter how many attempts that I gave to explain that I was not in the Army, and that it was just a jacket… they believed what they want.

Am I former military? NO.
Was it okay for them to have done what they did? NO.

So, there’s fault on both sides. And it appears that both sides were stuck with attempts to right the wrong in vain.

Chances are… I’ll never see these guys again. That’s just the way the world works. But I literally had these guys scared to death the entire rest of the night up until the time that I left the venue to return home.

This could be a lesson for people as well.

Of course I could have screamed and cursed and attempted to pick a fight with these guys. I would have been justified in doing so because of what had happened. But I think the best retaliation was to let them stew in their own individual minds about what they were doing and what they did do and what had happened, to punish themselves about it the rest of the night.

Are they thinking about it now-today? I doubt it. But they sure as hell thought about it last night.

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