I HATE blustering bullies.

If I've mentioned this before forgive me ...

But, one-time before I committed myself I was provoked to act when some Wall Street type asshole was pulling a Donny Long.

I'm having a bit of a Lamictal moment, so I can't recall the details exactly, and honesty they aren't the interesting part.

IIRC, Mr. Clean-Cut-Expensive-Suit-Designer-Sunglasses-Inside-In-Winter decided to cut the 123 bus line on the 400 gate series of the PABT.

It was silly really. The line wasn't that long. Pure arrogance. Yet, to be honest, I didn't care. But, this young woman did. And, to be brief, he showered her with ugly insults when she asked he to go to the back of the line.

So there I was. Unhappy, mixed-state, suicidal, feeling powerless, feeling put upon, unsure, hulking, large, now beyond anger, scowling with like 3 years growth of beard and hair.

And, he catches my eye and says something like, "You want some of this, big guy?"

My face transforms into a pitbull growl, face contorted to squinty asian-like eyes and teeth shining through all the brillo-like hair.

And at deep top-voice I incant:

"It is I, Xibalba, the gate of Hell! COME THROUGH ME!!!," and let loose a wall-shaking scream.

He blanched and the others stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed as suddenly the scream seemed to propel me to him like a falling apple to Earth.

He took off and I stampeded after him. But, soon the soothing adrenaline and energy of hate gave way to the pain in my oft-operated knees and bitter reality.

What would/could I do if I caught him? And, what would happen to me then?

While he sprinted west along the long corridor, I turned, limped back. Quietly, with eyes locked to the dingy floor, I re-took my place in line. When I looked up, I caught the gaze of the stunned older Hispanic women behind me and said off-hand, "He won't be back".

She laughed.