My Brush With the Devil, Death and the Law (in defense of marriage)

When I start my day late, my eating schedule gets thrown off. Today, I skipped breakfast and ate lunch at 3:30. By 9:30 I was starving and a tad anxious thanks to the stresses of work in a Bush economy. So, like any red-blooded American white guy, I set out on a walk to grab a burrito. At such an hour, I skipped the fries and opted for a second stop for a small cup of frozen yogurt. I really like the tart flavors. Tonight, I opted for a combination of blueberry, peach and pineapple.

On my walk to Del Taco I passed a gross mass of campaign signs from an assortment of candidates most have never heard from and will forget long before they vote next Tuesday. One sign stood out. It was a hand made sign on a wood steak. It was drawn in crayon – by a child. It said, very simply, ‘No on 8’. Proposition 8 in California is the divisive initiative that will in effect undo the state’s legalization of same sex marriage. It is attempting to rework the state constitution to define marriage as between one man and one woman.

I am very clear on this. The constitution – no matter state or federal is no place to define marriage as anything. Altering the constitution to exclude anyone for any reason is just not appropriate. The ‘Yes on 8’ group is running a series of creepy ads that actually say that public schools will be forced to ‘teach gay marriage’. This is of course not true. The state superintendent of public schools has said that marriage instruction of any sort is not part of any public school district’s curriculum. No matter to the supporters of eight. “Protecting the family” is serious work and who better to do the dirty work than the kids?! All of the, ‘Yes on 8’ TV spots feature children in the staring role.

The handmade sign that I saw had been defaced by a big, bold, black marker. The ‘8’ had a big ‘X’ through it. On the left side, written vertically was ‘fags’ on the right was ‘yes’. At first I walked past it, but quickly turned back and pulled it from the ground and tossed it behind the large bushes.

On my walk back I passed several ‘yes on 8’ yard signs. I left them all alone. I’m a free speech guy who feels that everyone deserves to be heard no matter how wrong they might be. As I stood waiting for the crosswalk to change, I saw one last sign. It was across the street on the opposite side I needed to go to get home. The vision of the ‘fags/yes’ sign returned to my head and I took off for the sign. I figured I would wait until no cars were around and pull the sign up and toss it aside. Instead of just knocking it over, I pulled the sign up and started heading down the street with it. I was going to give it a proper burial amongst the rest of the trash.

I looked both ways a couple times and waited until no cars were within hearing distance. No more than five seconds after yanking the sign up a compact car pulled up along beside me across the street. The woman inside took me by surprise. It was as if she crawled straight out of the gutter, onto the street.

She called out, “excuse me?”

I looked over and did not say anything, continuing to walk.
“could you put that sign back on the corner?”

All I could think to say was, “I’m moving it.”

Then, the real fun began. The woman drove along side of me for the next hundred yards. When I got to my corner she crept behind me at a nearly immobile pace. I passed my street and kept walking and turned the next corner. I glanced back and saw the headlights lurking behind me. She was following me. As she got to the corner, she waited in the intersection to see where I went. I jaunted right down a side street that would lead me back to where I grabbed the sign. I picked up my pace, glancing back every couple seconds. I stuffed the now mangled, twisted sign into a bush when I was out of sight from this monster in the Corolla. I heard the alternator on her car click on and then saw her lights getting closer. Then, she stopped. I turned the corner onto the busy street where all this started and ducked behind a giant tree. I looked back and saw that she turned into the opposite direction. I slipped back onto the sidewalk and started heading down toward the corner in another attempt to head home. By this time I had nothing in my hands and all I would have to do would be to deny ever having the sign if I was questioned. I could even pretend to hate fags too if she ever confronted me in front of a cop. Just then, I saw an Irvine police car jet through the intersection to which I was headed. She had called the cops. I was officially a fugitive from the Irvine police and heaven’s prison guard. Who would get to me first?

A few minutes after seeing the IPD car, heaven’s Corolla was again behind me. This time she passed me and turned left away from where I was headed. To be safe, I opted to head one more street up and then circle back. As I headed into the neighborhood into what I thought was safety, I heard the unmistakable hum or a supped up V8 cruiser behind me. I was busted. I kept walking. The officer slowed down and waved me over. I walked up to the door and a friendly looking officer with one stripe on his sleeve smiled and asked me if I lived here. I told him where I lived and he asked me if I had seen a man between eighteen and twenty who was pulling up yard signs.

I laughed and said, “no, not tonight.”

“it wasn’t you was it?”

I laughed bigger and said, “no”

He thanked me and sped off into the night.

So the night ended on a high note. I feel safer and younger. The police responded to an urgent 911 call and defended the rights of those who are defending the families of California in less than eight minutes and I was confused with a man half my age. God bless America.