Being on vacation rocks. I could be holed up in leaking shack during a hurricane and I'd be happy for the very basic reason that I have absolutely no obligations.

I don't have to go to work. I don't have to be nice to anyone. I don't have to rise early in the morning, in fact, I could sleep all day like a slovenly animal if I wanted to. I'm on vacation.

Oh, what's that? The phone's ringing? Caller ID shows that it's my lunatic friend on Day 4 of not hearing from the boy she went on 1 date with but thought they were destined for marriage? I'm not answering, I'm on vacation. I am UNAVAILABLE.

While on vacation, I meet interesting people, like the skitzophrenic freak who claimed to be a member of the Aryan Brotherhood and in the middle of conversation, accused me of being an undercover cop. Well, it was more like this:

Aryan Freak: Would you like my seat?

Me: No, thank you.

I declined because I was tipped off on his freakishness after Frog's shore boy was trapped in coversation with the freak on 3 nights before as he raved about how he's with "the militia" (ie - Michigan militia) and they are prepared to battle and kill terrorists hiding in Detriot.

AF: Please, take my seat.

Me: Oh, THANK YOU, but I'm fine standing, really.

"I'm trying to be old school and offer you my seat. Actually, I'm older than old school, I'm ARYAN and we are the oldest race on the planet."

I look away and pretend I don't hear him, even though his mouth is about a foot from my ear.

"I'm Aryan," repeats.

I stare blankly.

"Go ahead, take my seat. At least you're WHITE."

Toastress, my brother and our friend all nearly spit out their drinks at once as I continue to ignore the freak.

I mean, did this guy just SAY that??! I can't resist...

Me: "Yeah, I know you're Aryan. You were talking to my cousin and her friend on Saturday at X."

His irises are overtaken with swelling, black pupils. He is enraged at me. I get nervous, so I stare back directly into his eyes.

AF: "Your cousin tried to sell me drugs."

Me: *laugh* "You must be mistaken, my cousin doesn't DO drugs."

"Oh, your cousin does drugs. She tried to sell me drugs. And let me tell you, she picked the wrong person to sell too. I'm an Aryan Brother. WE don't do drugs."

At this point, I bite my tongue from pointing our that "his brothers" are predominently running the U.S. drug trade through the U.S. jail system from Attica to San Quentin. I didn't feel that would go over too well.

"Listen, you have the wrong girl," I tell him. I describe her.

He gets angry again. "Your cousin's an undercover cop. She's a narc. She tried to set me up by selling me ecstasy, but I don't DO DRUGS."

"My Brothers were watching out for me that night. They ran her through the system and traced her as a narc."

"I can assure you, my cousin is not a narc. You are mistaken," as I sip my beer.

"I have your cousin on tape. We videotaped the whole night. She's a narc."

I considered making a joke about him ripping off "Girls Gone Wild" to market "Bar Busts Gone Bad" but based on his complete LUNACY and serial killer potential, I decided not to go there.

AF: "You off tonight? You off? You off? You off? You off, huh, off?" he shoots at me in rapidfire succession.

I stare at him and realize that he's now accusing me of being an undercover cop. So I play dumb. Give him the power position. The last thing I want is to upset the power in this precarious coversation.

"Huh? What? What are you talking about, off?" I said and looked confused.

He's satisfied and smiles. I quickly move away to the furthest spot away from him.

Toastress ends up talking to him for the rest of the night, until I chimed in at the end.

He was talking, or more likely LYING as he was doing all night because he's skitzophrenic, and started talking about two friends of his that just died.

"Don't talk to me about friend's dying, I had 6 go in the WTC. Trying losing 6 in a day." I specifically threw out the WTC, because I want to see if he would create another lie and sure enough...

"I was at the World Trade Center that morning. Right before the first plane hit I was standing outside waiting for my friend."

I am flabberghasted. That is a HUGE LIE. Toastress and I start laughing.

He switches topics - he does this fast, like Jeff Gordon switching lanes - and starts talking about the CIA & FBI following him for answers.

"Don't worry about that," I said, "They can't even find Osama Bin Laden. One 6'4" man with a bum kidney and they can't find him."

"That's because it wasn't Osama who did it. It was the East Germans."

"WHAT are you TALKING ABOUT? Why would the Germans blow up a building with their people and their allies' citizens in it???" I ask, not even getting into the fact that there is no East Germany anymore.

"Yeah, it was the Russians," he said switching lanes without signaling again.

Toastress and I burst out laughing in his face.

"But you just said it was the Germans, how is it now the Russians?" I ask.

I cut to the chase. "Have you ever been treated for pathological lying?"

"Yes, by the Aryan Brotherhood..."

And then he FREAKS out.

"I AM NOT A LIAR. I BELIEVE IN TRUTH AND HONESTY!!" He turns to Toastress. "You'd better deal with your friend. I'm calling someone to handle her."

"Who are you calling?? Are you going to have my friend killed?" she asks him.

"No, I'm going to have her checked out" he says as he dials his cell phone.

Now, this guy doesn't even know my name. So I throw my first name out there and say, let them know it's X!

I think he hung up the phone before the call was placed.

We ended the night on an upbeat note, when I spoke some broken German to him.

Toastress really needs to finish the story because there was some really off-the-wall tales told by the skitzophrenic, including "the bartender conspiracy," "his grandmother the Jew in Germany during WWII, who wasn't a Jew" (my personal favorite), the CTI scanning software he has to run through faces of people he meets to find out if they are cops, and the alleged software he built at 15 and sold to the government for "millions." And then there's the generic, "7/10's of this bar is undercover cops, they are watching me, but they won't get me, because I'm not doing anything wrong."

I think this story really has two messages: 1) I meet interesting people on vacation, 2)Any teenagers out there fascinated by Matthew Hale and his team of inbreed hate mongers should understand that this freak is representative of the quality of people they have on their team - people who are certifiably INSANE and should be locked up.

Clearly the ATF missed one at WACO. Now THAT'S a government agency that needs more funding.

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