As the situation in the Middle East devolves into some very serious military saber-rattling and a stand-off, a smaller and more comical version of the Strait of Hormuz incident presented itself to me this morning.I moved to the library atrium right after finishing my coffee at the Neighborhood Cup. It was turning into a gorgeous day, seeming to invite me for a look at a different scenery and to step out for some fresh air. There is a lone corner table that many library patrons regard as the prime spot in the entire outdoor portion of the Aliso Viejo Library. I’m usually one of the first to arrive there, so I was able to stake it as my office for the day. Little did I know that I would be a sitting duck for the first salvo of disturbing yet comical version of the fast brewing and escalating conflict between myself and an Iranian guy named Alex.
Some months ago, there was an incident I wrote about involving a skirmish that we had in the Neighborhood Cup. I refer to him in such a way because that is all I know of him. He is bald and always wears sunglasses, even when indoors.
READ ABOUT THE INCIDENT ON APRIL 4th, 2011
It’s been many months since that incident. However, neither one of us have moved out of the city, and on occasion he would do things to try to agitate me. My usual seat at the Neighborhood Cup faces a foyer, partitioned by a clear three-quarters wall size window. This gives me a clear view of people walking through the place. On several occassions, he would walk past me with a menacing look. Once, he muttered the phrase, “f*** you, mother f****r” at me - inaudible because he was outside but clear to anyone who could read his lips. Timing is everything. He always does that when I haven’t the time to engage him in his juvenile behaviour. Besides, I’ve already devalued him to a low-life who would instigate trouble and call the cops the first moment he gets in trouble. So, he mistook my passiveness for weakness. That was a mistake.
The atrium has an entrance from the library foyer. And that was where he entered. I was busy going through the news of the day and following up on my research, completely immersed in my work when he interrupted me.
"Hey, how are you doing?", he asked in a sarcastic manner.
"I am not talking to you", I replied.
"Why? The cat cut your tongue?" even more sarcastically.
"You got a problem?" I asked. Then, I stood up. “Now we’re outside, come on you mother ***ker”, calling him with fingers of both my hands raised, with my voice stern and combative.
It didn't even take a moment. As I had expected, he turned tail. He turned around and said, “I’ll call the cops. You threatened me.” as he walked inside the Neighborhood Cup. I stayed outside for a little while waiting for him. Finally, I saw him talking to Rhonda, one of the servers on staff at the Cup that morning. I stepped inside and I called him. “Get over here”, I said - motioning him to go outside so we can finally settle our dispute. He wouldn’t, so I went inside and shared my version of the story.
I explained that I was sitting quietly outside when he walked into the atrium. Clearly, he had nothing else on his mind but to provoke me into a fight. My purpose for entering the Cup was to explain my version. I had no intentions of having a fight inside. It’s one of my favorite places in the city. I may have been a little louder than usual, but it couldn’t have been any louder than the moments when regulars engaged in a heated debate. So, when Melanie ushered me outside, I was more than compliant.
She eventually spent a few minutes outside with me. “Don’t go down to his level,” she said. She wasn’t aware of the incident that happened months prior, but tried to appeal to my good senses. Later on, one of the regulars who witnessed part of the incident, Brian, went outside to inquire. I told him that we had a history that went back several months and we finally hit the boiling point. Brian said that he was surprised because it was “uncharacteristic” of me.
I later left my computer with Brian so I could make a quick trip to Del Taco where I purchased three half-pound bean burritos. As I was standing at a cross-walk, guess who walks up on the other side, to walk in my direction. It was Alex and I stood there debating whether to make a scene in the middle of the road or not.
As we crossed each other, I just let him have it. I didn’t have much time as the cross-walk lights flickered. “You can call the cops anytime. You a***ole. Let’s have 4 rounds, you and I. You chicken**it.” I saw his mouth open but I couldn’t hear anything. He took what was on my mind and just kept on walking. I have since spent the next few hours waiting for a deputy to arrive at the atrium to write up his incident report. Nobody ever came. Cops have the sense not listen to him.
Later in the day, I went inside the Neighborhood Cup to ask for a cup of hot water for oatmeal packets I had. Jamie, one of the employees, gave me the cup of water and said that as of today, I am no longer allowed to enter the Neighborhood Cup. He said that, "I was scaring people." I was banned.
So, as of this writing, I am drafting a piece of correspondence invoking laws that require establishments to preserve and protect materials and evidence that are admissible in court and/or may lead to discovery of admissible evidence. There is a surveillance tape of the incident. They’ve recently installed a brand new system. I already told Jamie that I want it.
Who is this bald headed Iranian guy? Let’s find out, shall we?
