Potty Mouth Killer! heh heh!I shouldn’t write this one, because it’ll make my family worry back home; but I can’t protect them forever! (grin)
I live in a very quiet subdivision, Timog Park, and I’ve never had a problem like JUST happened. If you read back a couple posts, you might remember the one I wrote about depression called “The Enemy Within.” I spoke about how ignitable my personality has become to the point that I don’t fear for my life at times. Well, I just ran into some local fella who is worse than me in that regard.
I was giving my four-year old daughter, Isabel, a ride on my scooter after I got back from afternoon classes. We went very slow and steady because there’s always plenty of traffic and pedestrians. We turned left out of our street, Yellow-Bell, and headed up the main drag toward the main gate. I got almost to the last corner before the gate where I turn around and come back, when a car pulled up from the right out of a side street, seemingly without the intention of stopping, so I pulled quickly on my brakes. I was very concerned about my daughter and I mouthed the words, “What the f##k!,” strictly in the heat of the moment. The guy took immediate exception and stopped his car in the middle of the road and honked his horn at me. I pulled over and let my daughter off. He pulled right against my scooter and rolled his passenger window down.
This guy was “me” two weeks ago, when the van tried to force me off the road while I was minding my own business riding my scooter. He was shaking, absolutely livid with rage, and demanded to know why I used a “bad word” to him. I told him to calm down, and I only said what I did because I thought he was about to hit us. He demanded to know what I said, so I told him, “I said ‘What the f##k,’ but I didn’t even say it out loud, and I already told you, that’s because I thought you weren’t going to stop.”
At this point he lost complete control. He raged at me almost spitting as he screamed, “But I stopped didn’t I? I wasn’t going to f##king hit you. Who the f##k do you think you are? You f##king WHITE boy! F##k you! You don’t know who I am! Do you want me to get out of this car and kick your ass in front of your daughter?”
Hmmm. All of a sudden I had flashbacks back to the States. I hadn’t heard that kind of racial invective and hatred spewed at me since I was back home. I understood all of a sudden that this fellow had a massive chip on his shoulder, and the weird thing is I sensed this guy MUST be from the U.S., because although he looked local, Filipinos from around here NEVER talk like that. Just the same, I had a decision to make. My daughter was already shaking with fear and pleading to go. I told her wait a minute, that everything would be fine. Then I realized with my daughter there I had to act like an adult, going completely against my nature (grin). I told him, “Hey, calm down. Who is using bad words now?”
“F##k you! I am! Do you want me to get out of the car? I could kill you. You don’t know who I am! You f##king WHITE boy!”
‘Man, this guy really hates white people,’ I thought. But now, for the life of me, I was starting to see this whole thing as funny. Whenever he spouted a new tirade He’d lunge at me from the drivers seat like a mad dog against his leash stopping just short, and the more I showed absolutely no fear or concern, the madder it seemed to make him. As I examined the situation clinically, it struck my funny bone. I struggled not to grin. My main concern now was to spare my daughter from seeing her daddy involved in violence. I also knew I had complete control of the situation, because if this loudmouth was really serious about wanting to fight, he wouldn’t be asking me if I wanted to. No, if he were for real, he’d just jump out of his car and go for it. I’ve seen it many times before. I knew he was nothing more than a “barking dog.”
But alas, my daughter was whimpering and holding on to my leg, so, I “wimped” out—I did the “civilized” thing. I told the blowhard, “Man, take a deep breath and think a little. If an apology will bring you back to your senses, then cool, I apologize.”
He lunged again, “Why, you afraid I’m going to kick your ass in front of your daughter? You f##king white boy! F##k you!”
I couldn’t help it, I grinned.
“F##k YOU!” (Guess who said that. I’ll give you three guesses!...........No, it wasn't me!)
With a grin I told him, “Okay man, one more time. I APOLOGIZE. Now what else is it you could possibly want?”
The conversation turned into a "loop" at that point, where he continually threatened to kick my white ass in front of my little girl. It got to the point where I grew bored with him.
Finally, he drove away yelling one last: “F##k YOU! WHITE boy!” and he did so with a very American style middle finger pointed at me.
Which led me to think, “Dang, am I back in Flint, Michigan or something?’
I grinned at the guards who had wandered over from the main gate to do whatever it was they were going to do if things got any more out of hand. I smiled at them and told Isabel, “Hop on Isa. Let’s finish your ride.”
Still shaking, she whimpered, “I want to go home Daddy.”
“Isabel, don’t worry about that guy. He’s got problems in his head.” I knew this very well, since that's my PERSONAL expertise after all.
Later, when I got home, I told my wife, Amalia, about the nut that wanted to fight for no good reason. I asked her to go ask the guards who he was in case he tried to do something sneaky, like shoot me in the back. She came back about 45 minutes later with her OWN story!
She went to the main gate and spoke to the guards who had witnessed my altercation. They backed up my story and told her that he had already come down there and asked if any one had complained. Amalia conjectured he must be a little worried about his actions if he did that. The guards encouraged her to report him to authorities, and then they took her to where this nut lived. They also told her this guy came from the states, that he was new here, and he was going back to the U.S. soon. I KNEW IT! Anyway, nutcase came out and the two of them had it out. According to Amalia, it went something like this:
Amalia: “Did you really tell my husband in front of my little daughter that you were going to kill him?”
Nutcase: “Yeah you f##king bitch; he must be a faggot if he sent you down here.”
Amalia: “What’s wrong with you? Do you want me to bring charges against you?”
Nutcase: “F##k him! He’s white! Why you protecting him for? Your just his f##king kabet (girlfriend) anyway.”
Amalia: “F##k you! I’m his wife you asshole, and we’ve been married for 8 years.”
Nutcase: “F##k you too! Why do you want to be with a f##king white man anyway? All white people do is pay you! You know what that f##king makes you?”
Amalia: “If you keep this up, I’ll f##king kick your ass!”
Nutcase: “F##k you! I’ll kill you too!”
Amalia: “That’s it. I’m going to file a complaint against you right now! You wait right here and you’ll get your notice.”
Nutcase: “Bitch! Get the f##k out of here. I don’t give a f##k! Go back to your f##king white boy bitch!”
The guards observed this whole exchange and again advised Amalia that she should go to the Barangay Captain and file a complaint. We just returned from making our statements at the Barangay post. Supposedly, tomorrow morning, we (nutcase, Amalia, and me) will meet in front of the Barangay judge, who will make some kind of decision. I have no idea what that entails. I’ll be curious to see what kind of fallout results from going through all this. Life can be pretty “interesting” at times, eh? Stay tuned for news!