My First Experience With Blatant Homophobia

I just came out to my parents at the beginning of July. So mid-August, between returning from some business in Minneapolis and Madison and heading out on the west coast leg of my trip, my dad makes a comment about how people in other parts of the country aren't as liberal as we are (which is funny considering Metro Detroit is a liberal oasis in an otherwise gun-toting bible-thumping hick state) and to be careful. Well, not ten minutes after that I'm driving through Livonia toward the Meijer at Middlebelt and I-96 (aka The Jeffries), and a nice blue pick up truck pulls up next to me and the retarded jackass in the passenger seat has some choice words. The smattering of compassion I have left for him won't let me tell the world what a fuckin' unoriginal bastard he is. Okay, and part of me is a little embarrassed, even though I know I shouldn't be because I didn't do anything wrong. I hate to say that, but it's true. Aside from that incident, I did not have one lick of trouble the entire time I was on my trip.