Only once was I ever asked to delete a photo (yes, digital...meh). I was working as a reporter for a daily newspaper last winter and I went to a house fire in a blizzard. Turns out the kid of the building's tenant was on the fire department and didn't like me there, started screaming, pushing and swearing at me. I just stood my ground until the chief of police came over and pulled the jerk off. I was standing on an icy bridge, too, and I was praying for him to hit me, mostly so I could take a dive off the bridge into the water and sue the living crap out of him, his family, the fire department, the village, the county emergency services department and NYDOT.

Kinda weird, but I planned (while standing there) to buy a house on each end of town, a "normal" car and a bright yellow Corvette with "Paid for by XXXXXX, New York village government Tax Dollars" professionally painted on the doors, hood, trunk and convertible top. Every time I'd drive through town (it was on my daily commute at the time), I'd park my current beater at the first house, drive the Corvette through town veeeeeery slowly with the radio blaring (think Blues Brothers' speaker-on-the-car kind of sound setup), just to park at the other house and drive my other beater to where I was going, repeating the process on the way home again. Yeah, I'm a d**k...

There's a fuzzy picture of the jerk on my wall at the office.