Just your everyday Easter dinner, along with automatic rifles and horse saddle tug of war.
A couple Easters ago, I was in a relationship with a young woman. We were at her parents' house for Easter, for dinner. Some of the extended family came over, and these people had been known to sometimes cause some troubles – there were some issues in the family.
At some point during the meal, something popped off, and an altercation occurred between these two people. Her [my girlfriend's] father ran in to break them up. Meanwhile I am eating sweet potatoes and just looking around, very uncomfortable and confused.
Then I decided to kick it into action. I realized I'm a young, strapping man, who can break up this fight, and it was my job to do that.
So I run into the hallway and I'm helping to pull people off each other. And, at some point, the father unsheathed a firearm, holding it towards the sky, saying, "Get out of my house!"
At this point, I realized I should have continued eating my sweet potatoes, because I am ill-equipped from a being-shot-at type of situation. But my maternal instincts kicked it. What do I do? I grabbed the young lady that I'm romantically entwined with at the time and I throw her into a side bedroom, along with the two little children. And I say, "Don't you come out of this room." Because I'm going to be the big, strong man and go back out there and make sure that my lover's father does not end up in jail for murder.
I closed the door and went back out into the mayhem.
Whilst in the hallway, things at this point have broken up a bit, as unsheathing a gun could tend to do.
Let me describe to you. The guest – the male – that was there was … a large man. A 250-pound, six-foot-four man. And, I'm not that.
While on the way out I'm thinking to myself, Just stand here, put your chest out and look tough, and it all be fine soon.
He [the big man] attempts to steal some of their [my girlfriend's family's] belongings as he's walking out the door. He was pulling a really nice horse saddle up the split-level. They – the stepmom and the young, large, bad man – were playing a tug-of-war with a horse saddle. Stepmother grabs the horse saddle out of the person's hand. He attempts to look like he's coming towards her in a violent motion.
Then the father of my love interest at the time tackled that large man down a flight of stairs.
And I'm just so unhappy at this point. But, my adrenaline's pumping – I'm feeling stronger than I've ever felt. So I fly down those stairs.
I pull them apart.
And then this large man says, as he starts to pull out his side pocket knife, "I'm going to kill you."
So, I'm holding his arm. Now, this man is a big man, and I'm using all of my twenty-three-year-old strength to push his one arm against the door. It takes all of my strength to do that, so he does not pull out his knife.
Then he looked at me in the eyes and said, "But first, I'm going to kill you."
And for some reason I'm trying to reason with him. I said, "Why? I'm a good guy. I'm not doing anything. I'm just trying to break you up."
And in my head, I was pretty scared. But I did separate them. They go outside, finally.
Someone called the cops in this whole thing. So the cops showed up and people are going outside, but my lover and the two children are up in the bedroom still so I'm kind of hanging around waiting for them, but the cops are getting ready to come in.
Then, as I look down the stairs toward the door, a police officer in full riot gear with an automatic rifle starts walking up the stairs. My first instinct is to put up my hands into the air and I said, "I am unarmed."
And in my head I'm thinking, as this officer of the law is approaching me with an automatic rifle, This is the worst Easter ever.