Bullet proof crazy man.
Insanity defined my life until I was 30 years old. However, this post is not a sob story or a ploy to get sympathy. Oh, no. It is an adventurous and cautionary tale meant for entertainment and informative purposes.
In many ways I am probably one of the most unfortunate and at the same time most fortunate people you will run across for many reasons. I have had a gun pulled on me four times in my life. Make no mistake about it. Having a gun pulled on you is a traumatic experience. It's the kind of thing that PTSD is made of. But I think we can all agree that actually getting shot is far worse, and I have never been shot. So having a gun pulled on you but not getting shot kind of encapsulates being very unfortunate yet very fortunate in almost the same instant.
Yeah, I was totally insane back then. I have never owned a gun or carried any kind of weapon, nor have I ever verbally threatened anyone, but just my presence was enough to scare the shit out of people. Unlike some crazy people who can pull off a veneer of sanity, I couldn't hide it. I was that far gone. One of the very unsettling things about me was that I was just really unpredictable. Predictability in our culture gives people the illusion of safety. Three of the four times I had a gun pulled on me were by the cops. I went to jail all three times. I did not pass Go, and I did not collect $200. Those run-ins with the law are a story for a different time. All had to do with dope and booze. I self-medicated before I knew that they had legal drugs that were much more effective, even if not nearly as fun, at controlling severe psychological problems.
But that other time, yeah, that was the first time. Looking back on it, it seems like it was kind of an introduction to a life of full blown insanity.
I was 17 years old and I was hanging out with a friend of the same age. He said he had a cousin who was of legal drinking age who would buy us beer. He lived out in the country and we went out to his house unannounced. My friend said it would be okay.
We got to the house and walked up to the front door and knocked on it. The door swung open quickly and there straight across from me was this older, scruffy looking biker dude with a 12 gauge shot gun pointed directly at my torso. I just froze. We stared at each other for a second, then he let out a big sigh and lowered the gun and his eyes. Out from behind the door came my friend's cousin. He looked at us and laughed and said, "Ah, man. We didn't see you, John. All we saw was your friend. Ol' dude thought he was coming for him."
It turned out that the biker dude was some friend of the family who had pissed off some other biker dude or someone for some reason. It seems like it might have been over a woman. This guy had never seen me before and thought I was coming to do him harm. I was baby-faced 17 year old kid and obviously unarmed.
We took the cousin up to a store and he bought us beer. We came back to his place and sat for a minute. The old biker dude had been drinking whiskey. From what I could tell he was pretty drunk. A half full fifth of Jack Daniels was sitting on the table next him and he was taking regular pulls from it. He was also scared shitless. We're talking some serious bad vibes.
My friend and I left and got plowed later that night.