I’ve missed Mickey. Ever since the pandemic began, I’ve seen him occasionally walking down Main street, sitting on a park bench. His hangout, the Round  House Cafe, closed soon after Covid-19 struck, and he started hanging out in front of the Subway near Walgreen’s.

But mostly, I was driving by or far away, or rushing past and I spent little time in our shuttered downtown. Our paths just didn’t cross until this evening.

I had just come close to getting slugged.

Shortly before finding Mickey had a confrontation with an enraged man screaming obscenities at a clerk, a woman.

He was cursing her in the vilest way and got in her face so close they were nose to nose. He was screaming and threatening her, and she was frightened, as anyone would have been.

She was also strong and wasn’t backing down or running away.

The man – he was tall and side and loud –  said she must be a Communist to be demanding that he wear a mask, and I can’t repeat – and don’t wish to repeat – the things he was saying to her. I saw that she could use some company.

He was so angry and vicious that she was starting to lose her composure.

Some people around us were watching, but nobody really knew what to do.

I stepped in between this raging bully and her tormentor and said it wasn’t her fault; she didn’t set the health department regulations.

He started cursing at me and telling me I would regret it if he didn’t mind my own business. He said I was a pussy for wearing a mask, and seeing I was older, didn’t feel he had to listen to me.

The woman was shaking and stayed right behind me; she didn’t retreat, as she could have. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, “it’s my job.”

Without facing her,  I said, “I think it’s everybody’s job,” and thought for a second that that would have made a great John Wayne line. Maybe that’s where I heard it.

I felt this was a foul-mouthed bully, and in my life, they are the biggest cowards of all. They fed off of fear.

When I was a police reporter in Atlantic City, I would often drive around with a police sergeant named Bill Ten Brink, who was shot and killed while making a traffic stop.

One night, a drunk driver who was trying to rest started swinging at him, and he said a few things that made the man stop and get quietly into the police car. I couldn’t remember them off the top of my head.

I told the creep this afternoon that there was no glory in fighting with a 73-year-old man, and if he so much as touched me, he would go to jail for assault. I told him I had already dialed the police on my Iphone and they were on the way.

I then recalled exactly what Sgt. Ten Brink said to the drunk. I can’t repeat the exact words here, but I did remind him what happens to assholes and bullies in prison in great detail.

I said I heard sirens (I didn’t, I hadn’t called the police). He blinked and stepped back a couple of steps. Then I called the police, right in front of him.

Still cursing and blustering, he walked out, got into his car, and drove away.

When I came home and told Maria about this, she said I was a hero and wanted to buy me an ice cream cone. So we went out and got one.

(This incident didn’t rise to hero level – people who risk their lives for others are heroes – but I enjoyed the ice cream.

I did feel good about what I did, and the very nice woman thanked me several times. I am grateful for having been a police reporter. You get to learn what to say.

But his hate and rage was disturbing.

Mickey, a schizophrenic who once lived in New York City,  brought all of this back to me, he is our version of a street person, and some people are afraid of him He has a home and is well cared for. He is both sweet and gentle, and I can’t imagine him harming a mosquito.

The pandemic is over in one way, but not in several others. We will all be feeling it for a long time.

I gave Mickey $10 when we met; he was happy to see me and shook my hand. We talked about the pandemic and what it meant to him. He had a tough time.

I told him everybody was a little crazy right now but that things were slowly returning to normal. I believe that to be true.