Alas, I am charged with the over-all safety of.. Well.. Everyone. It's like watching Peter Parker trying to save the world without his Spiderman powers, or kick ass suit.
Shit happens though and I get hurt. Hurt a lot. Like punched in the face, tackled, spit on, yelled at, and sometimes I get the occasional knife pulled on me.
I love my job though. Even though one day I was charged with watching the beer line at some country concert. I was particularly worried about this one grizzly of a man I nicknamed "Thunder". He was beyond drunk, he was in a state of being that most people in Maine call "gone". While I was watching him, alternating his eye sight from the wall to me, an elderly lady approached me inquiring where the restrooms were. Being the dashing young man I like to think I am I not only told her but POINTED also. On my way back to turning around to watch the line, I was presented with a glorious present aimed at my fore-head. "Thunder" had punched me with all the five fingered glory of the old gods in Caribou.
The only thought that went through my mind was: I thought you were a good person.
Shamelessly said I blacked out. I woke up to feeling half my head lighter than the next, a pounding headache, and a sore ass.
Summing up all the paper work and potential lawsuits. I settled for a $300 grievance package on top of my paycheck. I never did get around to meeting with him for his verbal apology.
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