mac, from what I have been told, javalina are not in the swine family at all. They are giant rodents. I’m still going to tell everyone that they are called javalina because of the Romans.
Small town here, if you start hearing that folks in the land of the sun call wild rats javalina…you will have started it 
So, if I’ve got this straight, the story goes like this:
You see someone put their bags in the wrong bin.
You COULD say “Excuse me sir, don’t you think you should take it to your own seat?” but you just ignore it.
Other people get on the plane, they find their own bins full of the other guy’s luggage. They have no place to put their own luggage, so it gets gate-checked (whatever that means).
You then remove the offending luggage, AFTER it has already inconvenienced the other passengers.
You know who the owner is, but you pretend not to know.
You make a false claim that this is a potential security risk. Other people have to investigate, spend time and trouble to find that it isn’t a bomb.
And then Mr Big Shot arrives at his destination without his papers. What’s the effect of that? Perhaps a business deal might fall through. Without that big order, Mr Big Shot’s company has to lay off staff. Maybe 20 people lose their jobs because of the papers that go missing, did you ever think of that? Or maybe it’s vital evidence that can secure the release of an unjustly accused innocent person. You could be doing anything to anyone.
Is this something you just fantasize about doing “theoretically”, or something you actually have done?
If I were your boss, and I caught you doing this, I’d fire you on the spot.
Yah, I thought this thread was about badasses, not passive-aggressive nuisances.
To further the mental exercise, theoretically this flight attendant might go on to work in London’s finance sector, where theoretically he might end up working with the very people he screwed over that way. Who theoretically would never know. Unless, someone, theoretically, posted a little notice on LinkedIn . . .
Aren’t theoretical games fun?
For the record, no one theoretically has the intention of doing this. But bragging about something petty and vicious in a message board where one’s email is on public display is theoretically not the smartest move.
Flatlined, javalina are not rodents at all, in that their teeth do not continuously grow and don’t need to be kept worn down by gnawing. Actually, they are in the same order, Artiodactyla, and suborder, Suiformes as pigs. Pigs and peccaries do share a common ancestor going back about 30 million years, but peccaries are in a family of their own, Tayassuidae. Of course, javalinas are a truly wild species and have nothing in common with the feral hogs, which are descendants of the Old World domesticated pigs brought to the New World by the Spanish.
Believe it or not, they are also related to the hippopotamus.
More about your subject line than the content, but one of my favorite lines Angel was said by Fred (Frederica):
You know what they say about payback? Well, I’M THE BITCH!
j.
cochrane, thank you so much! Ignorance fought and all. I should know better than to depend on “everyone knows that” from the old-timers. I guess I just believed it because everyone knows that javalina are big rats.
To the OP, sorry for the high jack.
Sits back to read other stories of badassness
I was at the party of a friend of a friend with my brother who was pretty hammered. Some ass pushes him over onto a bicycle and he falls in a tangle to the ground and I’m about to rise to go help when I notice a bud is helping already and the ass who did it has come over and sits next to me smirking. It’s one of those folding metal chair things so I sit down again and grab the front leg and pull it straight up. Amazingly he stays in the seat for the full 180 like some Wyle E. Coyote cartoon. He falls straight down onto the top of his head. He didn’t have time to even uncross his arms. Everybody bursts out laughing.
He jumps up all bad telling me he is going to kick my ass and I just say that the guy he pushed over is my brother and I will be glad to take this beyond the even I figure we are now so he calls me a “brave little shit” and I let that slide so he can save face as everyone is still cackling. I still get folks who come up to me saying “hey you’re the guy that flipped Glen on his head”.
But it doesn’t make me feel better. I wish I had killed him. If I had known then that he and his brother would rape a 3 year old years later I would not have let him slide but how do you know what people are capable of? He is serving two life terms now but it makes me sad beyond expression to know that for one short moment I had the power to have stopped that awful thing from happening to a precious little girl. He might cure cancer at some future point too so you just don’t know. I’m nobodys judge and jury either. It’s just that I feel an awful sense of hopeless regret and pain over that little girl. Even if it doesn’t make sense I feel a personal responsibilty that I somehow failed. And yes I know peodos are people too so STFU. I’m just trying to explain how it bothers me.
[nitpick] Winifred, not Frederica. And yeah, she was awesome. [/nitpick]
I’ve got one. Its me, but not so much being a badass as the story has a funny ending.
My high school was considered one of the worst/roughest in the county. Known for race riots and lockdowns. And here I am in 9th grade, a 110 pound nerd who hasnt been there for even 2 full months yet.
Long story short, for good and various reasons I end up kicking the biggest, baddest, oldest dude in school in the nuts. After the fighting was done, its to the office. I tell the PE teacher my story. He listens intently. He sits there thinking for a bit. Then he says “next time kick harder”
While it wasn’t some master plan to “prove myself” (it had nothing to do with that) I will say nobody ever bothered me again.
There was a gang of Hungarians that wanted their own mob. They realized that to be in power, you didn’t need guns or money or even numbers. You just needed the will to do what the other guy wouldn’t. After a while, they come into power and then they come after me.
I was small-time then, just running dope. They come to my home in the afternoon, looking for my business. They find my wife and kids in the house and decide to wait for me. I come home to find my wife raped and children screaming. The Hungarians knew I was tough, not to be trifled with, so they let me know they meant business.
One of them cut one of my children’s throat.
They tell me they want my territory, all my business. I looked over the faces of my family. Then I showed these men of will what will really was.
I shot my wife and the rest of my kids.
I tell them I would rather see my family dead than live another day after this. I let the last Hungarian go, wait until his wife and kids are in the ground, and then I go after the rest of the mob. I kill their kids. I kill their wives. I kill their parents and their parents’ friends. I burn down the houses they live in, the stores they work in. I kill people that owe them money. And like that, I’m gone. Underground. Nobody’s ever seen me since. I become a myth, a spook story that criminals tell their kids at night. “Rat on your pop and Terraplane will get you.” But no one ever really believes.
You didn’t let him slide, you stood up to a bully in a way that was appropriate for the incident. Your actions and the actions of others who did the same may have kept enough pressure on him to reduce the number of victims. No shame. And hey, when you develop perfect foresight, let me know. We could do some things with that.
Well, I believe that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist…
Many decades ago when I was a sweet young lass of 19. My then boyfriend, his best friend and I were in the famous “Koots,” aka Chilkoot Charlies http://www.koots.com/ (in those days, the drinking age in Alaska was 19). Now, it’s kind of a namby pamby tourist trap, but at the time, it was frequented by some hardcore Grizzly Adam’s Real Alaskan(trademark) types, including a local Hell’s Angel type motorcycle gang called “The Brothers” (IIRC this gang was eventually grandfathered into the Hell’s Angel’s and became the Alaska chapter or something).
My BF and his buddy were playing pool, and I was bored out of my mind. Koots wasn’t exactly my cup of tea (see rough and tumble reasons above). I wanted to go to the Point or Pierce Street Annex, or one of the many other fine dance halls Anchorage used to have in abundance. But it was their turn, I got to go dancing lots of times, and so I was taking it with good grace and trying to entertain myself the best I could. I asked if anyone had some quarters for the jukebox and at that same moment one of the guys they were playing pool with slapped a couple of quarters down on the edge of the pool table.
I gleefully snapped them up and turned toward the juke when the guy unleashed an absolute BARRAGE of obscenities and insults at me. I hadn’t realized they were for the table, not for me. “Oh oops!” I said, and handed them back. But he didn’t want any of it, I’d apparently insulted him (in his mind) and by golly he was gonna let me have it. And with me being so very young, his obscene mouth absolutely floored me and left me completely speechless and embarrassed.
My boyfriend was JUST heading toward the guy when his best buddy gently snagged the guy by the shirt sleeve and started saying something very quietly in his ear.
To this day neither my ex-husband (that long ago boyfriend) nor I know exactly what Rick said to the guy, but he was clearly very motivated and impressed by it. He changed from a giant jerk to Prince Valiant in about half a nano-second, apologizing to me profusely, offering up all kinds of quarters, generally falling all over himself to redeem himself in Rick’s eyes. SO much so, I had to basically tell him “look, good enough, you’re forgiven already”.
Rick must have been “that guy” with whatever he said to the guy.
All slightly incorrect. Because if I (theoretically, of course) actually saw the person you can bet your ass we’d say something and Mr Big Shot would be lugging his precious stuff down the aisle to the back like he’s supposed to.
But have fun feeling all morally superior and all.
And if you really think anyone would actually take luggage off a plane without making an announcement over the PA system, you’re even stupider than initially expected; my days of underestimating the average intelligence of Dopers is certainly coming to a middle.
The last thing we want to do is remove something that is actually important - such as someone’s needed medication. But guess what - Mr Big Shot often doesn’t say anything, expecting -his- bag to get gate-checked at worse. But when we can’t identify the owner, off the plane the bag goes, and it WILL go off the plane. And Mr Big Shot WILL get to where ever he is going without his bags. Tough shit, and it’s his own fault for trying to ‘get one up’ on the system and not speaking up when he had the chance.
Like I said, have fun feeling morally superior and all.
Took you a month to come up with that?
I was going to say something very like this. Did this guy have kids? If so, you helped destroy a family, congrats. Did the kids deserve it, too? I wonder what happened to them, and I wonder if what you helped to do their family hurt them, and if maybe it’s hurting/will hurt their kids. Letting someone take the natural consequences of their actions is one thing…deliberately destroying someone just for revenge…is a jerk move.
I know someone who once fucked with Wilson Pickett’s daughter. Pickett slammed him seven ways to Sunday. I wish I’d been there. The guy was a total ass, and once got hit with a gun and physically assaulted by two different people he fucked with.
A guy in the neighborhood used to walk his dog (off leash) to a point up the hill from our house. He would remain at the top of the hill and the dog would trot down, drop a load and go prancing merrily on his way back up the hill. For whatever reason, (hedges near the sidewalk that prodived a screen?) dogs were alway leaving pile for me or my brothers to run over with the lawn mower or step in. Anyway, one day the dog comes down and my brother was prepared. The dog did his thing out of sight of the owner. My brother grabbed the mutt, scooped the poo into a plastic bag and tied it around the dogs neck. The dog went running back up the hill never to be seen again.