Monday, July 23, 2007

My first reenactment protester... of sorts

I was up in my old stomping ground doing a drill weekend. It was a great weekend, but not without some excitement.

It seems that some fellow had a beef with what we were doing. But then again, no one really knew what the beef was about to begin with. I guess when one is drunk, then things simply don't come out of your mouth like you want them to. He bandied about some racist names, black and white. At least he embraced diversity, and was possibly being PC about the whole situation.

Then Mr Drunk Protester of Who-Knows-What kicks the situation up a notch. He decides the confused message isn't quite getting through to our Captain, and resorts to threats. (To this point, the Captain had been good about not feeding this guy's confused rage, and asked him to leave a few times) First, Mr Protester is going to call the cops on us, then he starts alluding to something more physical. At this point, it's easy enough to say this guy could have been easily bludgeoned like Beetle Bailey when he gets on Sarge's nerves.

We had a much better tactic in mind. Captain quit talking, and ordered us to 'shoulder arms'. Then quietly, we marched by him and began drilling. A bucket of cold water.

Mr Drunk Protester, without audience and IDed via "wireless telegraph" to the police while he was 'a spewing , muttered more pointless garbage and quickly fled the scene, not to be heard from again.

This was my first reenactment protester. What a disappointment.

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