I was minding my own business in the Pilot House Lounge and Bar — or at least tending to my beer and scribbling away in a notebook I always carry — when a guy I didn\u2019t know parked at the table next to me with a cup of coffee. Army fatigue jacket, butch crewcut, aviator sunglasses hanging from a strap. Probably ex-CIA or retired corrections officer. He had his back to the ballgame on the bigscreen TV over the bar, apparently more interested in my antics. I tried to avoid eye contact, watched a bunt down the first base line, but he didn\u2019t need a cue.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatcha think of that drilling ban in the Arctic?\u201d he finally asked. I looked up from my great American novel, took a slow sip of suds and studied him for motives. He didn\u2019t offer anything obvious. Just a guy in a bar, a student of politics, no doubt.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay with me,\u201d I said non-commitedly. And waited. \u201cYou rather have nuclear?\u201d he countered. His coffee sat untouched. I sighed. Here we go \u2026. \u201cOkay with me,\u201d I said again. Cap\u2019n. Klink nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about those Muslim terrorists, you okay with that?\u201d I put my pen down. Slid my notebook to the edge of the table. Took a slow sip of beer whose taste seemed metallic now. Why me, Lord, why me? We were alone except for Jerry wiping down the bar that didn\u2019t need wiping. The batter took a called strike. I looked at my inquisitor, some bridge troll out for a holiday.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t get too many down my way on the South End,\u201d I finally said. \u201cSo you aren\u2019t bothered?\u201d he sneered.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, I\u2019m bothered,\u201d I said, feeling the blood rising. \u201cI\u2019m bothered right now.\u201d He finally sipped his coffee and smiled. Now he was getting there. Strike two to the batter on the TV. I smiled back, hoping to cut off his air supply. It did — he dropped the phony grin. \u201cWhatcha think of us white males turned into second class citizens?\u201d he fairly snarled. I laughed out loud this time. Jerry looked up. Behind him a baseball landed in the outfield stands. I left my beer half finished and stood up to go.<\/p>\n
\u201cTry not to be a victim, friend. Especially if you\u2019re white and male. Doesn\u2019t leave much for those terrorists to take from you.\u201d Jerry waved so long and gave me a quizzical arched eyebrow. The pitcher put a baseball in the manager\u2019s hands and headed for the showers. Me too.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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