It was a midsummer morning. Steve, Rick, Priscilla, and
I were standing around talking about the goings on in our little world and
speculating what the day might bring. Just then a heavy-duty, silver Dodge Ram
pickup truck with matching camper shell pulling a 30’ Airstream
trailer rolled onto the gravel parking lot. The lower two-thirds of the
trailer was graphically painted with a beautifully pastoral scene of a roiling,
boulder-strewn mountain stream and gorgeous rainbow trout rising to a mayfly.
We talked about the attractive artwork for a while and
watched as a slightly bent and frumpily dressed older man of maybe 80 years and
a buff, 30-something woman with a distinctly military bearing emerged from the
truck. She was dressed in a white tank top under Dickie overalls and black army
boots. The woman moved with a swagger and wore her hair in a closely cropped
crew cut. Just watching the pair make their way across the parking lot to the
cafe was a lesson in contrast. He shuffled while she strutted. We all wondered
at their connection.
It was getting busy at the cafe, so, thinking Miss Frances
and the crew might need my help I headed out the Kokopelli doors. Walking
outside, I was drawn down the porch steps and across the lot toward the rig. I
was curious what might be painted on the other side. Walking close to the
Airstream, I inspected the artwork and came around the front of the Dodge,
passing near the front of the RV to the opposite side. As I did, I thought I
noticed a break in the wind screen over the wrap around window. I raised my
hand to inspect the crack, then realized the entire cover had a golden flecked
and swirl pattern running inside and through the cover. Recognizing the
illusion, I lowered my hand and continued circling the trailer.
As I came around the rear of the Airstream, I noticed the
woman in overalls striding in my direction. By her aggressive body language, I
figured there might be something amiss. I smiled as she came near and commented
on how attractive the trailer was. The woman walked right up to me, placed her
face within inches of mine and growled, “Is there a problem?” I looked into her
angry blue eyes and wondered just what had caused the obvious animosity. As she
leaned in and stared me down, I replied, “Not unless you have one.”
The angry woman was literally frothing at the mouth. She
unleashed a tirade about how I had touched her trailer, how it was protected by
a German Sheppard, how it had a security system and a video camera which had
captured me, “touching [her] property!” I stood there, amazed by her
wrath, then came to the understanding that there was much more going on
here than simple trespass. This woman had far greater issues disrupting her
life than my simple indiscretion. Although I was beginning to understand that
there was underlying pain in her actions, I did not appreciate her verbal
assault and veiled threats at physical abuse. When she threatened to get the
local sheriff involved, I lost patience. I had tolerated about as much as I
intended.
When Miss Angry Pants stopped to breathe, I calmly
said, “All right, how about this? I have the sheriff’s number right here
in my phone. I am certain he will be interested in what you have to say. Let’s
give him a holler.” Also, knowing Steve would not mind being left out of
this sticky wicket, I continued, “I own the property you are parked
on, from the highway to the byway in back of us. From those Twin Rocks to ten
feet on the other side of the road there. Either call the cops or gather up
your friend and pull out. Either way, that solves our problem!”
Miss Bad Attitude considered what I had said. Realizing I
was calling her bluff, she reconsidered. “We just want to have a quiet
breakfast!” she blurted out, then turned on her boot heels and hustled back
toward the cafe. Wondering at her bad behavior and hasty retreat, I followed
her up the steps of the restaurant and saw her re-seat herself next to her aged
companion. Walking up to the table, I received a hostile look from the woman,
which caused me to direct my comments to the elderly man. He bowed his head,
turned away slightly and ignored my approach. I shrugged and turned away, it
was time to let bygones be bygones. I was still agitated, but thought it best
to cool down, so I went to the register to check on Toni, our cashier.
The next thing I knew the woman was sticking her phone in my
face and taking my picture. Now, I was angry and told her it was time for her
to leave, “Right Now!” The woman smiled smugly, gathered her hesitant
companion and drove away. I thought not, but hoped that was the last I
would see or hear from her. It wasn’t!
Since Steve knew how much the encounter had upset
me, he withheld the fact that the Angry Woman was sending him e-mail
messages threatening a lawsuit. She had a cousin who she claimed was a long-time
and successful attorney who would bring us to our knees, and we had upset
her uncle who had been a postal employee and was protected by the U.S.
Government. The lawyer in Steve was not intimidated. He told her that he had a
few years’ experience as well and that if she felt so strongly about it to file
the suit. After a few days, when her anger abated, or she realized her hollow
threats were falling on deaf ears, the Angry Woman faded away. I eventually
discovered Steve's interaction with the woman when he and Rick began giving me
grief every time an Airstream pulled into the parking lot. “Don’t touch it,
Barry!” became their common and frequently repeated refrain.
Steve once said that because of the changing times, and our
attempts to maintain local traditions, Twin Rocks Trading Post and Cafe sits at
the crossroad between tradition and innovation, the future and the past. It
seems to me it is much more than that. With our businesses, we attempt to
maintain a consistent and positive presence and support our community,
employees, artists, and guests.
Because of our expansive and open parking lot, we draw
large groups of vehicles and people. It is not unusual to see it packed from
end to end, front to back with everything from motor homes to motorcycles,
collector cars of every description, and processions of floats and beauty
queens gathering for celebration. We are pleased to meet people from every
country in the world, and we do our best to accept them for who and what they
are. Rarely do we get someone we don’t understand---a wounded warrior or a
disagreeable sort with a prickly personality, but not often. Because we
focus on the positive, our experiences are mostly good. With Steve and
Rick, however, the verdict is still out.
(Editor’s Note:
Barry’s family, friends, and co-workers have been so concerned they held a
Crisis Intervention. We are pleased to report that Barry has entered a 12-step
program designed to discourage random touching of other people’s Airstreams and
he has advanced to the 5th Stage already. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.)
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