Coach, if you ever put that story to paper, please let us know. I imagine it is one of the most intriguing stories to be read, especially your survival of the situation. I'd definitely buy a copy.
There wasn't much to it, actually.
I had seen something that wasn't supposed to happen (a railway accident), and because it wasn't supposed to happen, I wasn't supposed to see it.
Thus is socialism.
As an obvious eyewitness, and clearly a stranger, I was approached by the police.
Being deaf, even if I knew Russian, I had no idea why the guy was yelling at me.
I was "non-responsive," a sure trigger for those with short tempers.
I should note that my first reaction, generally, to aggression is sheer passivity; I suspect this is because I was a younger child in a big family. Simply sheer passivity; "well, do what you're going to do, and get it over with."
He gently tapped one of my thighs with a baton, and then lifted his hand so as to slug or slap me, but then stopped.
I have no idea why; I am 6'3", usually about 180-190 pounds, and used to make a living bending 320-pound 20'-long lengths of steel pipe--but this was well into my excursion among the workers and peasants of the socialist paradises with free medical care for all, and I was down to something less than 150 pounds. So I don't think it was my size that deferred him; it seemed it was something else.
He walked around me, examining me from all sides, yelling at me. When I first opened my mouth, he accused me of being a German, and started screaming German invectives at me (I did not have my passport with me). This was told me by an eyewitness to the spectacle, who knew English.
Usually I wear my hair long, so as to disguise the absence of ears, but when wandering around the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants with free medical care for all, I wore my hair short, so the absence would be obvious.
A commonsensical matter when among people one does not know; that way, if there was something wrong, observers could see the problem, or at least part of the problem.
The guy circled me a couple of times, snarling, and then stopped. He backed off, and then made a comment which was later translated for me; "a lamb among wolves, but a lamb who escapes the slaughter nonetheless;" something like that, and then left.
You know, sir, for a person who never fights back, and for a person who can inspire really vigorous hostility because of my "non-responsive" nature, I am truly surprised I've never been beaten up in my life. God is good.