I failed to practice what I preach

Mea culpa time, Freedom Fiends.

Situational awareness is one of my pet topics. It may be, in fact, THE pet topic.

So, I feel (in regards to full disclosure) I have to tell you of how I totally dropped the ball over the weekend.

Saturday night, the Merchant duo was in Lincoln to visit a friend in her new digs and also to see another friend up from Oklahoma.

All was going peachy, as we dined at a burger and fry joint in South Lincoln. Seeing as my P3AT was riding below the belt, I was enjoying a chocolate/Oreo malt concoction. I had left the .45 locked in the car safe and went with the smaller gun as one of our friends is very solidly in the "guns are evil" category.

No one's perfect.

The ladies then wanted to relocate to a place with a more libationally oriented menu. So, we motored over to a nearby wings and beer establishment that (luckily) fell below the 50% criteria.

As we entered, I made a stop in the head. When I came out, all three ladies had a very displeased look on their faces.

"Look who we ran into," Mizz Merchant said with a great deal of forced pleasantness.

At the bar (and pretty deep into his cups already) was an old friend. Said friend had always been somewhat of an unpleasant fellow, but had become a completely intolerable arse. None of us had had any form of contact in the past 3-4 years. For good reason.

You know those situations where the very first thought that enters your head is "Well, this can't end well"? Sort of like when your 16-year-old pal told you he was going to marry his 15-year-old pregnant girlfriend? Yeah, this was one of those moments.

But, we all sat together (the arse had a friend with him) and tried to play nice.

Well, that lasted abut 30 minutes.

The arse began to insult everyone at the table, and as usual, wives and female friends bore the brunt of the attack.

Now my friend from Oklahoma is one of the sweetest, nicest, most caring people I know.

She's also a lawyer. A black belt. An Army brat. And too used to Oklahoma's 3.2 beer.

She and the arse started getting loud and vulgar. The arse decides to leave, and (after finishing his drink and wings) his friend leaves, too.

Now.... the arse is a big talker. Lots of tough talk and comments about blowing people and places up. He also likes big bores. .45 Long Colt and .444 Marlin are two of his favorites. From my experience, the arse would do no harm.... but I don't like the "I think" comment that always comes next.

So I slipped over behind the ATM and watched around the window shade as they pulled out of the stall, parked behind the lawyer's new Jeep for a few minutes, then finally drove away.

Up until this point, I feel pretty good about how I handled this. I ignored his jabs, focused on my iced tea, signaled the bar tender that it was "cut off time" and waited. When he and Lawyer Woman started getting into it, I casually moved my stool out of the way and positioned myself to be able to grab her before she did something dumb. I knew a little patience and the arse would leave.

Now comes the stupid.

He leaves, all is well. my lizard brain starts thinking about whether or not I need to go out to my vehicle and upgrade my ACP from .380 to .45. I also move to better see the doors and start looking for cover and concealment.

At no point does the human brain chime in to say "If you think this line of thought is necessary, why are you still here?"

Miss Merchant, who is very situationally smart, opines that we may want to relocate to a new establishment "just in case."

The bartender, as punishment for the extreme rudeness and condescending behavior of the two men, "accidentally" put another round on their credit cards. The men never looked and signed away.

So, the ladies are entitled to a another round. (For the record, as my part as peacekeeper, I was offered a free shot. I, naturally, declined.)

Any way, the anti-gunner and the lawyer decide there's no reason to leave.

Fast-forward about 35 minutes. One of the cooks, who saw me watching the arse and amigo leave, comes over to tell us that the black truck is back and the guys in it are messing with the Jeep.

The lawyer and I hit the door just as the two perps (now) are getting back in their truck. The Jeep's gas cap is open, a large puddle of beer is on the ground, and a few foul phrases are written on the back window in the dirt.

Perps leave, police are called, loud lawyer is physically placed in my vehicle to avoid jail, and I don't get home with both vehicles until 3 a.m.

There appears to be no harm to the Jeep, and the perps were in line for matching disturbing the peace tix.

But.... the lesson to be had from this long, long tale is ..... as always .... a little situational awareness and the whole bloody mess could have been avoided.

Plus.... I wouldn't have to endure two days (and counting) of hearing the missus say "I told you we should've left. I told you."

(sigh)

Yes, dear.

Stay smart, stay safe.

xxxJM24xxx