When we first moved to Milwaukee, one of the first things the Ozman did was locate the Surplus store. Surplus stores to Oz is like Lululemon to the average crossfitting male, a happy place. Luckily, the shop is about 10 minutes away (actually everything in Milwaukee is about 10 minutes away) and an easy drive to downtown. Really the only trouble with the location is that it’s across the street where the panhandlers congregate before going ‘on the job’ (local panhandlers can make anywhere from $200-$500 per day in cash. A pretty good gig if you ask me) and they get incredibly aggressive if you don’t give them money. I’ll leave that topic for another day.
The store is run by very capable people who recognized that Oz has very specific interests and had always been incredibly helpful in directing him to where he may find what he’s looking for any particular day. We drove down one night after he finished his homework and while he was wandering about on one side of the store, I was on the other looking at some shelf stuff. Nothing major, just leaving him basically alone to take his time. There was a man trying on clothes with two older women (maybe mom and friend, who knows) who could have been in his early 20’s or so. I’m horrible at guessing people’s ages.
At some point, he went to pass me and instead of continuing on, he rubbed against my backside, pushing me into the shelves with an erect penis. I pushed against him and instantly started kicking him and yelling. The two women rushed over and hustled him in the dressing room but he just looked me and smiled. Mother. Fucker. The store owner came rushing over trying to diffuse the situation and putting himself between the, now group of 3 people, and myself. Poor 6th grade Oz was on the other side of the store wondering what in the everlasting fuck just happened. I grabbed Oz and got out of there.
I called Matt who called the store and talked to the owner. Everything calmed down but there was a lot going on there. First off, fucker. Supposedly the women told the store owner that he is mentally handicapped and not to call the police. So he didn’t but told them to get out of his store and never come back. Second, I hate that it happened with Oz there. When we talked about it later, Oz felt bad because he said that we wouldn’t have even been there if he didn’t want to go. (Memo to me, my son puts the world on his shoulders. Let’s fix that before he becomes miserable, eh?)
As unpleasant as it was, there are worst things in the world. There have even been worse things in my world and we all got over it. In fact, I hadn’t thought of it in years until I read a story where a super model (the daughter of one of the Real Housewives of ‘somewhere’) was attacked by a “prankster” who grabs famous young women and throws them around a little using protesting various stupid shit as his platform for assault.
While she was being attacked, Ms. Hadid’s fight or flight instincts kicked in and she fought. Unfortunately, she and her sister were the only one’s who fought and no one else stepped in to grab this piece of shit and kick the ever living out of him. He laughed and ran off into the crowd. Assault is so funny.
Well, after reading about her story, I thought of my own from years ago. No, assault isn’t funny. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it any less real.
Fast forward to Friday night. The Bigg guy and I decided to paint the town red and go out. Honestly, we don’t go out very often. First off, we usually make better food than what we can over pay for and kinda like to be comfortable eating it. Plus, ya know, Sling TV and all the sports. But we ventured off into the Milwaukee night and ate Mexican food; spent some time at Matt’s favorite beer bar (Roman’s) and stopped in our local joint, McBob’s for post drink mini-reuben’s (we didn’t each much at the Mexican joint and it caught up to us.)
It was a nice, almost quiet evening at McBob’s and we sat up at the bar. At some point, Matt said he’s going to TT and will be right back. Shortly after, a hand landed on my right shoulder and a man whispered in my left ear, “Hey baby, wanna….”
That’s as far as he got. I smashed my left elbow around and connected mid-sternum and used my best throwing ‘separation’ technique (with some leg push from the bar step) to get all my hip into the right hand punch to the throat of my unfortunate new friend when all of a sudden he started screaming, “Juli stop! It’s me, Scotty!” Yup. I just throat punched, twice, our dear friend and bartender, Scotty.
I was mortified. Kinda. I hurt him and I’m sorry I hurt my friend. On the other hand, yeah instincts. Also, Scotty learned to never do that again. We hung out for a while after and all is good but I’ll probably always be the girl who kicked Scotty’s ass.
And at the end of the day, so be it. The friend in me still feels bad for punching him, twice. But the woman in me feels okay. This is one of those, it is what it is dealio’s. And no, I don’t want any “man, people should know not to mess with you’ comments. At the end of the day, we all (men and women, but yes, mostly women) are in vulnerable positions and we never really know how we’re going to react in any situation. This is how I reacted in this situation and like I said, the mechanics were good for me to throw a couple hard shots. That may not be the case if there is a next time.
In general, let’s be careful out there. Men, have your woman’s back and make sure she knows what to do if she needs to defend herself cuz you’re in the TT room. Women, don’t wait for your man to have your back, fight or flight. But don’t freeze. And men, if you see a woman in trouble and you don’t step in, well, you can imagine what my opinion of you is.
My favorite picture of the whole model assault situation is the one of the right:
The girl wasn’t ready for the start of this attack but was ready to finish it. Her “body guard” held her back. See how much fun the prankster is having? I’m hoping his future includes someone else’s view of how much fun it will be assaulting, sorry, pranking him. I’ll post those pictures too.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned/nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.