Hidden behind a PA stack watching me, sharp-eyed and feral, was a guy about 6 feet tall and vibing for all the world like a local version of Sid Vicious. As he stepped out from behind the stack, I could see his black T-shirt come into view, emblazoned with a white swastika — and above the swastika, the word ”WHITE,” and below it, ”POWER.” Like a surfer leaping into the sea, he flung himself over the heads of the crowd and headed straight toward me.
I clenched my fists and spun in the chaos, shifting my body so that the undulating crowd pushed me toward him. My belief was that avoiding trouble just delayed trouble, so I staggered toward him as he swung over the heads of the crowd. As my right hand drew back, his arms shot under my arms, he hugged me to his chest TIGHT, and kissed me on the mouth.
I laughed. He laughed. And we both turned and launched ourselves back into the crowd.
This was how I met the man known as Bob Noxious…
