From that point forward, I have lived my life by a very pacifist "Can't we all just get along?" principle. Not to mention the fact that I keep a secret locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I take all confidences to the grave.
However, my peace loving and reasonable self gets froggy as a mutha when someone aproaches one of my kids in the wrong way. This is something that a couple of over anxious street vendors learned the hard way in Italy. Let's just say I taught them some new words in English. This week in Las Vegas, another similar lesson had to be taught.
We had just seen the Beatles Love Show at the Mirage and we were walking down Las Vegas Blvd in front of the Bellagio, in the hopes of catching the fountain show. It was about 9:00 PM. At this time of the night, the area is buzzing with activity as tourists bustle from casino to show to restaurant. All that tourist activity is like a magnet to the hookers, hawkers and beggars. This makes my spidey senses tingle and I go on high alert like a mama bear guarding her cubs.
One of the most prevalent type of sidewalk slime on the strip is the Strip Club hawker. These people pass out business cards with pictures of naked women on them and the address of whatever strip club the hawker works for. The back of the card has a name written on it, so that the person handing out the card can get "credit" for whoever they bring in. For the most part, these hawkers always tried to push a card on to my husband, but reeled the card back in when my son passed. He is 14 years old and while he's a big kid, he is clearly not an adult, passing for MAYBE 16 at the most. There would be no reason to assume that he was even close to being of age.
As we rolled down the crowded sidewalk, I spotted her. She was short, had frizzy black hair and bulging eyes. She looked like the unholy spawn of an Ewok and a Bush Baby and she had her hairy little fist loaded with naked lady cards and propriety be damned, she was going to make quota. The following unfolded in slow motion (please note that the naughty words have been substituted with a word that sounds similar. This is to prevent any additonal freaky keyword results) -
- The ewok places a card in her grubby right hand, a nude, buxom vixen on clear display.
- I see her look up at my son's face to catch his attention.
- She begins to extend the card toward his hand.
- I sweep in from behind and block her play, eyballing her hard and uttering the following: "Are you out of your mother plucking mind? He is fourteen years old! I will slap you in your plucking mouth."
- The bush baby has a look of stunned disbelief on her face. Once I am a few paces beyond her, she pulls her jaw off the ground and responds. "You plucking b1tch!"
- I responded "You're exactly right. I'm a b1tch and I will slap the taste out of your mouth."
It was truly like an out of body experience and once I came back into my body, I had a deep regret for the terrible example that I had just set for my kids. But I'll be damned if any leering, disgusting, porn hawking street person is going to approach my kids. You mess with the cubs and you get mauled by the mama bear. I just hope that the kinder, gentler person that I am 99.999% of the time, is the person that has the true influence over my children and that the person that I am the other .001% of the time only has impact on bush babies and street sleeze that need to understand that mama bear don't play and it's best to mind your P's and Q's around her cubs.