A Wife Watching Fantasy, Too Far

One of the first things that popped up in my search was Oktoberfest in Daytona. Granted, we had never been to a biker event in our lives, but now we had to. We owned a new Harley. Meaning, I knew Monday morning I would be signing papers for it.

With no thought at all, I pulled out my credit card, booked a room for Biketoberfest week, and printed my confirmation. Once printed, I walked it to Janet who was now in front yard with her plants. She didn't really say much as I handed it to her, but I could tell she was in. The only thing she casually uttered was "Remember, we're not riding there, be looking for a trailer to rent. It's just a few weeks away."

It was done. How many people do you know who book a bike event, and haven't even signed the paper to own it? I think it took all of about ten minutes to finalize the paper work that following Monday morning. There I stood in amazement. I owned our Harley.

As the few painfully long weeks passed, we rode all over the city. I became much better at handling the bike, and Janet absolutely fell in love with the entire riding experience. It became a quick role reversal. Meaning, Janet was more excited about riding it seemed, than I was, and I was pretty damned excited.

The morning of our departure I had a buddy pick me up for work on that Thursday morning. It was so the rental place could deliver and hook up the trailer to our Yukon. Later that evening as my buddy drove me home, I could plainly see from a distance that not only did they hook up the trailer, they also put the bike on, and secured it.

Just as my buddy dropped me off, Janet exited the house saying "Look'ie there, it's all ready to go."

I replied "Yes, but how'd you get them to load the bike? Did they charge extra?"

She then giggled and said "No Buddy, I gave them a pity story of how I might have to load it myself, if you were late getting home, and they volunteered to load it. They took one look at me and said they'd better do it."

Everything was working out great. Basically we were ready to roll. Not having to load the bike made it a matter of simply putting the keys in the Yukon and rolling. Later that evening around 11:00 P.M. We packed and excitedly started our journey. I preferred driving at night to get there because there' would be less traffic, and hell, I was so excited, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. We had eight hours ahead of us, so we decided to make the best of it.

We stopped at all the little gimmick tourist stops along the way, which added a few hours to the trip. Being as excited as a ten year old on Christmas morning, I decided to drive straight through, no hotel, not even a rest area nap.

I have to say this though, and it may sound odd, we did our "Trucker Thing." Meaning, Janet and I loved teasing truckers with her legs. We'd turn on the dome lights, she'd put her gorgeous feet on the dash board, and expose her panties. Now, we passed at least a hundred truckers on this adventure, seventy of which honked their air horns. We had a time with it, she kept count, all during her woken hours.

At around 6:00 AM though I was solo, Janet had been passed out asleep for hours. I'll never forget how the sun began to rise. As it did, I cracked the window and could smell the beach, almost as though standing in the surf, you know, that salty oceanic smell reserved only for the coast. We were only a few minutes out when I leaned over and nudged Janet. As I did, she slowly stretched and yawned asking "How much further Baby?"

I replied "We're here, only a few minutes out."

We eventually exited onto the Daytona exit and made our way through the strip, or town as it might be called there. The GPS unit was now yammering every few seconds "Turn right one-hundred feet, turn left seventy-five feet, turn right, you are at your destination."

The town was utterly packed with motorcycles, RV's, and trailers. I was absolutely beside myself with excitement. However, my luck was comical and tragic as usual. We slowly rolled into our hotel parking lot and I mean slowly, with all the bikes and vehicles. I quickly noticed that there was one, and I do mean only one, place we could possibly park, and it was a dandy. Let me tell you, it was a shoe-horn tight spot, much tighter than a novice like me was used to. I knew full well it would be a miracle to get the trailer in a slot that tight without mowing down a row of Bikes. I didn't even want to think about backing over a group of hard-core biker's hogs.

The worst part was? About fifty feet up from the only parking spot, was what looked like fifteen of the most hard core biker types you could possibly imagine, hard core men and women who had been out all night. The kind who said "We'll sleep when we're dead" types. I didn't stare, but just a miniscule glance spoke volumes. I mean, they fit every hardcore biker stereotype, and then some. This bunch was inked up one side and down the other. Their bodies simply ran out of room for more tattoos.

I began comically imagining how they should all have "I desperately yearn to commit a violent felony" tattooed onto their forehead, as it would be the last vacant spot for ink. They must have rode full time and supported themselves through crime, because there's no way anyone would hire them in today's society, looking the way they did. And let's face it, no one could pose as that type of biker. They were the real McCoy, the real deal. I'm sure at some point in your life, you've seen the type, but dared not stare too long.

It took me about five attempts to back into this spot so that the Yukon wasn't blocking anyone. All the while, I could tell the bikers were profusely laughing at us. My biggest fear though? Wasn't at all that they got a kick out of my parking abilities, but that we had to walk past them to enter the hotel lobby. As I began to get a little pissed and distracted by them making fun of us, I completely forgot about what they'd do to me, but rather focused on what they'd do to both of us, because of Janette's mouth.

The fact at hand? Janet was utterly ignorant with regard to how one should interact around dangerous people. It gave me a genuine fear. A fear that said... "If they had something smart ass to say, she'd respond, and in a way that would have me fighting to save our lives, or simply getting my ass kicked." Of all my biker fantasies? This one was definitely lowest on the list.

Remember, Janet is this petite, smoking hot, naive, upper crust wife, who thinks, "The world is a safe place, it has to be, right? There are laws! The law says it's illegal to hurt me, and well, that means I can say what ever blurts out of my mouth. Right?" Truth is, Janet had always lived in a privledged, suburban, don't worry about shit type existence, and this was absolutely not one of those places, nor were these people who gave a fuck, or gave a free pass on being ignorant.

As we finally parked and turned the vehicle off, I said "I'll grab what I can. You get us checked in. I'll meet you in the lobby, just ignore those fuckers. I don't care what they say, just ignore them. Don't say shit. I don't care what they say. Got it?"

She quickly agreed, but before walking to the hotel lobby? She innocently stretched and yawned outside the vehicle, eventually bending down and touching her toes. Every one of the bikers began whooping and shouting. I just brushed it off not thinking much of it, and in some sense, trying to show Janet how to ignore. In fact, I thought if that was the worst? We'd be fine. I knew I had to face it though. Janet is seriously hot. I figured what the hell? It would take much more than that to bother me. And besides, I knew full well we hadn't taken a vacation to Disneyland. I desperately clung to the faintest hope though, that she knew the same thing, this wasn't her safe neighborhood, these were obviously dangerous people.

As these thoughts swam through my head, I grabbed all the bags I could possibly fit on my shoulders. Janet began her walk twenty feet in front of me. I was hobbling with all the weight, but just wanted to get past them. As Janet passed the crowd, I heard one of them say "Hey Baby! I know you want to ride something better than that shiny Fat-Boy you pulled in with. You can ride me, mine's fat... Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Get over here bitch before I drag you over."

Janet, to my amazement just kept walking. I noticed as she frighteningly flinched when he raised his voice. But my dumb ass? After all my "Ignore it" speeches to myself? I saw the deepest red. Not so much over what he said, I knew I was in for a ton of that shit, but it was how he said it. I was perfectly fine, even flattered, with guys being guys, bikers being bikers, drunkenly blurting things out with regard to how pretty my wife is. That didn't, and never did trouble me. I knew full well that Janet was better looking than ninety-nine percent of the women in this town, and certainly better looking than any of the women hanging out with these guys... It ate at me with how he said it, how it frightened her, made her jump.

Now, Janet's no "lay down" helpless kitten, even with her fairy-tale upbringing. Ordinarily, in our neighborhood? She would have blasted this guy with all sorts of "Kiss my ass" type remarks, but she wasn't at all used to this guys tone, and neither was I? Yes, I know. She could probably use a lesson or two in how to act in certain situations, reality, especially around a group of "Whose Who Among Felons," but I wasn't going to a have this low life ass-hole teach it to her, or scare her.

Yes, I am a contract Attorney specializing in existing, time expiring contracts. And yes, that pretty much verbalizes I'm not a street fighter or wild man. But, in his case, I was a psychotically angry husband, and that stood for something.

Now up to this point you might think me an eighty pound weakling, whose utterly pussy whipped (I am a little bit pussy whipped), but I'm actually a six foot three inch, two-hundred thirty pound, former full ride, football scholar. One who wanted to become a lawyer, much more than he wanted to become a professional football tight-end. Indeed, I'm about as calm as it gets, but something inside me couldn't let this go. To me, it went beyond playing around.

As I walked past them, I was fuming, unbelievably. But, I realized it was best to let it go. Problem was, I looked directly at the guy who said it. He in turn looked right at me saying "What the fuck do you want, sweetheart?"

As he said it, I was through being pissed. No? I was now enraged. It was time to deal with it. Ordinarily I can take a ton of shit, to the point of even being taken advantage of. Many times Janet has told me, "Baby, you're too nice to people. You let them walk all over you. You should speak your mind," I can most assuredly guarantee you, this wasn't one of those event's she had in mind.

I furiously hobbled out of the traffic area of the lot, next to a handicap parking spot. I then quickly slammed the bags down on the pavement with all my anger. Cans of hair spray fell out of the bags and clanged as they rolled under vehicles and down the lot. Janet's makeup also flew all over the place from her small night bag. I was in a wildly pissed off state, a suicidal state looking back on it.

Just as the bags spilled and hit the pavement, I spun and pointed directly at the guy who said it, yelling "I want you, Motherfucker! No! Don't be confused. Don't be looking to your buddies on this one. Yes you!You fucking heard me! I'm going to tell you what you told my wife. Get over here before I drag you over here. I'm going to beat the living shit out of you in front of all your dirt-bag buddies. How'd that be for starters?"

In my rage, I the dam near blacked out continuing, "After I take a few seconds to kick your ass, I think I'll kick all your buddies asses, simply on principle. Now, Get your fucking sorry, dirty, worthless ass up off that piece of shit bike, and come get the beating like you've never had before, by a preppy pretty boy, by a non-biker. Bet your buddies would love watching you get your ass kicked by a non-biker, wouldn't they? Look at me. My running shoes cost more than your life. My wife's manicure cost more than your fucking grocery bill... Come get it bad-ass. I'm all yours."

As I began saying it, Janet turned and ran back to me crying, "Scott, no, Oh God no Baby! What in God's name are you doing? Honey, No! Scott, Look at me, Just, Look at me..! Just please look at me for a second, No! Come on, please, Baby, come with me! Oh God... Don't do this. It's not worth it." She then begged to them, "He's tired, we drove a long way. It's okay now. We are going. We are going now..."

Just as she did, the same guys said "You better listen to your old lady motherfucker, before you get hurt."

She had never witnessed me this worked up, and I'm sure she thought I had a mental breakdown, which I think I did. What frightened her the most was, she knew I had turned into someone she didn't even know. She positively knew I was serious. About the time she began pulling at me, the largest man I have ever seen in my life, rose up off a car hood in back of the pack and said "Yo, yeah you. Don't move, just stay there, right where you are."

As he said it, he waved my original target off and told him to sit back down on his bike. Now I was absolutely confident I could take the guy who insulted Janet, but this guy was colossal. I mean WWF big, and I don't even watch professional wrestling. He was enormous, and I hadn't even seen him back there.

It's funny in hind sight, what goes through a mans mind when in a situation like this. A series of thoughts instantly ran through my mind. One's like "God! I don't want Janet to see this. I wonder how far the hospital is from here. Will the the hotel call 911? Will I have enough of a heart beat for them to bring me back to life?"

As he approached? Yes, I was concerned, but still enraged. I then pushed Janet towards the hotel telling her "Listen to me! Go! Get inside the hotel, now! I don't want you to see this."

I knew I couldn't take this guy, but more importantly, I didn't want Janet beside me when it happened. Just as I pushed Janet out of harms way, he reached his arms out spread eagle and just stood there, as if to either give me a hug, or invite me to take a swing. I wasn't sure what he was up to, at all.

Janet continued to cry, sobbing from ten feet away "Please God, no, no, Baby, No!"

As she did, I in some way accepted my fate, looked at this huge individual, and said, "Come get yours too Mother-fucker. Tell your buddies they're next." I was out of control for the first time in my life.

He instantly chuckled like the Jolly-Green Giant replying "Are you fucking kidding me? You're wound up like a spring, you'd kick all our asses about now. You want to fight me? Oh no, I ain't gonna get my ass kicked by a, what was that? A non-biker, preppy pretty boy."

He chuckled again with, "What would people say? Listen to me... You're a biker... You are ten times the biker most try to be in this town. For fuck sakes, you better be a biker with a fine bike like that. Don't call yourself a non-biker. You're a biker my friend."

I have to say I was confused and utterly confounded. I replied in what I'm sure would be considered a very comical stupefy, "What? You, and, they, and, um, that, What? ...We're not fighting?"

He then chuckled "Damn you've got coconuts. You've got more balls than any of these fuck-faces behind me. I respect that. If they ever, and I do mean ever, disrespect you and your ole-lady again, they'll answer to me."

As I was lowering my hands, he pulled me into him and hugged me like a grizzly bear. I mean he picked me up off the ground two feet. I will never forget the smell of what smelled like cigarettes, and old engine oil, or gasoline that exuded from his vest. His wife too, quickly walked to Janet and began consoling her. I was in shock. I went from enemy, to family, in a mater of seconds.

Once he lowered me back to the ground, he thundered "Name is Huggs."

I quickly replied, "I'm Scott, that's my wife Janet."

My heart was still racing a mile a minute.

After he was done hugging me, he ran for Janet who cowered for a second, as if seeing the Jolly Green Giant coming towards her. He then leaned down, put his hands under her arms, and pressed her over his head.

I know it freaked her out a bit. She quickly said "Hi, There, Hey thhhere, there Huggs! Yep, I'm Janet. Very nice to meet you. Wow, I can see Cuba from here."

Huggs deeply chuckled, lowered her back to the ground, and gave her a warm hug. She disappeared in his arms. His wife Marie, then jokingly said "In case you didn't know where he got his nickname, well...? It's what he does. He hugs... Doesn't believe in a sensible hand shake."

He again chuckled and jokingly said "Bull-shit, woman, it's because I'm pretty. Don't be confused, woman want to hug me. I can't help that shit. I'm just God-damned pretty."

Marie quickly fired back saying, "No. It's because you don't know how to shake a hands, you moose. Don't mind him, we are signing him up for an etiquette class next week," Marie playfully giggled.

He then insisted that his wife take Janet and check in, and that I stay out to better aquatint myself. It became quickly obvious, that in their world? I had earned the Medal of Honor, standing up to the entire group. Even the guy who made all the inflammatory comments was back-slapping me. It was an odd world, but a very tight knit one. As tight knit as they were though, I'm sure you were either part of the family, or on the menu. I believe had if I played it any other way, I'd have probably been pounded into dust.

As we all spoke, they told me all about themselves, what they did, where they hailed from, etc. Within minutes, I knew more about them than most of the people I worked with, people I had worked with for years. They were not a shy bunch by any stretch.

Huggs then asked, "What do you do for a living Scott? How do you buy a bike like that?" I hesitantly replied "Well... I'm an Attorney."

They all became utterly silent, but once Huggs began laughing his ass off, so did the rest of the group. It was almost as if they wouldn't scratch their ass, unless Huggs did. Understandably so, Huggs was the commander of this rabble, and it was obvious. Not just because of his six foot five inch, three hundred pound stature, but because his personality was that of an unyielding leader.

He respected two things in life, courage, and smarts. Somehow he thought I had both. The more we spoke, the more fascinated they all became with me. I mean Huggs began running me through every legal scenario... What not do, what to do, What if type scenarios. Each and every time I rolled out a solution to them, rather like a "Anti-Felony Merlin," with simple legal service. I wasn't specialized in criminal law, but had been around it with some unsavory clients you wouldn't want to enter into a business agreement with.

They were having a hoot with it, and so was I. This went on for a couple of hours. Janet and I hadn't even laid eyes on our room up to this point. Well after check in, Janet softly whispered in my ear, "Baby, we need to get a nap in. I'm so tired. We'll never have the energy to do anything today if we don't rest."

Things went way beyond what I had anticipated that early morning. I was now both a friend, and what seemed like a celebrity, among these hardest of bikers. I unknowingly became adsorbed into an inner circle that might have ordinarily taken a good while to even mingle with.

Believe me when I say, they wore a patch on their vests, one I won't mention, that wasn't given out. It was earned over years, and lord knows what was required to get it, even if you made it that far in their bizarre world. I'm sure many tried to get it, and didn't.