A Not-So-Simple Story of Simple Assault

Fifteen years ago today, I was arrested for the first - and I trust the last - time in my life. It was not the first time in my life I'd ever broken the law, the subject of perhaps another visit to the bell curve confessional booth in the future. But it was the first time I'd ever been caught. The charge? Simple assault. The story? Not as simple. 

My wife, our niece, and our niece's friend were sitting at the bagel shop located a block from our home, a place we'd patronized regularly since moving to our current home about eighteen months before. A man who we later learned was known to the local police approached the three of them and quietly but menacingly scolded the friend to "...get your filthy feet off the chair..." My wife was so astounded by this man's temerity and the racial animus she detected when he spoke to our niece's friend that all she could think to do was ask "What did you just say?" When he repeated himself with equal venom in his voice - but still so quietly that only the three of them could hear - my wife threw the little bit of coffee remaining in her cup at him. He said, "That's assault, I'm going to have you arrested!". She replied, "Go ahead and try!" then stormed out of the shop with our niece and her friend close behind.

Here's where hot-headed Pat takes the stage. I pull into the bagel shop parking lot and am not yet even in a space when I see my obviously frightened wife hurrying toward the sidewalk, our niece and friend on her heels, the sneaky coward right behind the three of them. My car still idling, I have barely a second to ask "What's going on?" before my wife has time through her fear and anger to say something to me like "That man just said something ugly and racial ..." I quickly reverted to a primal state. All I could think to say before shoving this bully to the ground was "How dare you!" or something equally innocuous. Would I have done the same had I known there were police officers sitting in the bagel shop witnessing my impulsive spectacle? Can't say for sure. But I do know a few things that happened next even if some details are fuzzy and it still remains unclear exactly when I realized that both my wife and I were being arrested.

Step one: Thrown to the ground and handcuffed. Read my rights? Don't recall. Step two: Taken in a squad car to the station. My wife was allowed to drive herself and be booked. Later: Fingerprinted and told the charges. Lots of unexposed film for much of the rest of this story. However, I'd been at this blogging thing for about six months when this all went down. Consequently, I do have one piece of irrefutable evidence about my state of mind the next day.  

As the first cryptic post below will show, on August 16, 2011, I was sure I was out of the blogging business. Given the disaster scenarios that had played out in my head over the previous twenty-four hours - following what I now call the $4,000 bagel fiasco - on August 16, continuing to blog seemed like a preposterously silly and frivolous pursuit. Obviously, my retirement from blogging ended up being as short-lived as the ones threatened many times by Ol' Blue Eyes, as the second post below (from September 1) will also show. Although it took me fifteen years to be ready to fully confess here that foolish act on August 15, I'm still uncertain what Pat - circa 2011 - thought he would prove pushing that cretin to the ground.

Reflections from the Bell Curve: That's All, Folks!

Reflections from the Bell Curve: He's Baaaack