This is a stupid story if it is a story at all....
Quentin and I decided we'd go to the District Convention since it is right here in our home town.
Why?
Oh, curiousity. A desire to find my old prison buddies. Maybe catching one of my closest friends from 30+ years ago and getting back in touch.
In other words: pure fantasy!
Having written my memoir from the prison experience back last November, I wanted to recapture the flavor...the tickle of original feeling that came from entering the hive and breathing that peculiar Jehovah-laden air. It would contribute to my rewrites, I felt.
Quentin and I were going to go on Saturday inasmuch as I had the day off for a change. But, I was having second thoughts, third thoughts and re-re-recriminations. Ambivalence, in other words.
My son needed to go downtown to the largest branch of the Public Library and it was only a few minutes from the Conventions Center. While he went about his research I popped down---on impulse---to the location of the District Convention to spy out the "lay of the land" so to speak.
Here is where the stupid story really begins.....
No sooner had I entered the front door of the Convention Center I locked eyes with somebody. It was the same person I'd bumped into at a recent JW funeral. She had been friendly and even "normal" (whatever that might mean in this context). I had chatted with her and her new husband and we'd exchanged e-mail addresses. I give you this backstory now so you will have the context for what follows...
After the first e-mail, this sister (whom I had known for at least 40 years) told me that, quote: "Since you've given up all hope--it seems to agree with you..." I responded politely (so I thought) that her assessment of me was not accurate. I had not abandoned hope at all. I explained I had found life to be more wonderful outside the artificial atmosphere of the religious control of my 20 years as a Jehovah's Witness.
I was not insulting. I briefly told her where I was in my own mind and how my family had flourished.
She returned fire in her next (and LAST!) e-mail.
She dismissed me, making it clear she wanted no part of anybody who would villify her God and all she held dear by lying about them and dragging their reputations through the dirt on the Internet.
Well!
Okay. Bye-bye and good luck. Sorry you feel that way.
Now, weeks later, I lock eyes with her after no more than ten seconds inside the District Convention.
What was I to do? I smiled and said, "Hi!"
Immediately she wheels about and marches (like a cartoon figure pumping her arms mightily as she huffed) toward two (I assume) security people with badges. I can't hear her conversation, naturally, but I'm farily fixated on the faces of the two brothers she's reporting to.
Their eyes narrow. The lips of the largest one seemed to purse up like he'd just sucked a lemon.
This can't be good.
Both square their shoulders and fix a stare on me as they commence to locomote their hulky bulkiness in my direction!
It wouldn't be fair for me to say they were "knuckle draggers" or that they were salivating from beneath their uni-brows....however...it did strike me that way!!
No sooner than I had frozen in my tracks (not three feet from the front door) the two cherubs of drooling righteousness confronted me S.W.A.T. style, arms akimbo, exuding a profound presence of "now we've got you--you Al Quaida terrorist" piece of trash!!
I'm six feet four inches. I held my ground. But, I ain't uh gonna lie to you---I wasn't exactly cool as a cucumber.
"We're going to ask you to leave, sir" the Schwarzeneger on the right entoned.
I was more than a little taken aback!
"Because?..." I queried?
The other hound from hell added his own tagline: "You KNOW you're not welcome here."
"Move along."
Like sweeping dog poo from off your front porch!
Now I'm ashamed to say I did absolutely nothing.
I'd really really like to tell you I stood up to them and gave back some scathing remark.
I didn't.
I slunk off like a hobo chased from a boxcar.
Turned tail and skeedaddled, I did.
I was HURT! Inside. It hurt my damned feelings!
That weakend me.
I did not expect to feel HURT, dammit!
Ten minutes later I was mad as hell. Too late to mean anything.
I decided to call my former best friend, Johnny (who was attending the convention).
"Hello?" Johnny answered. He could see on his cellphone it was me and his voice was already uncomfortable.
"Hi, John. I was thinking of attending the Convention. Is there anything special I need to know? Some shirt with a scarlet A on it I need to wear? Some special protocol I should be aware of??"
"No. Why?"
"Well, I don't want to cause any...um...trouble...ya know...."
"No. Just remember DO NOT TALK TO ANYBODY. Sit by yourself. It is a tough row to hoe."
"Okay. Thanks."
Silence. Click. Hummmmmmmm.
Right. I made my "error" by mouthing the greeting to my arch Nemesis who had freaked in response.
Big deal.
No way to treat a human being.
I'm still half hurt and half pissed off like there is no way of telling you.
Like I said, not much of a story....