Spokane, WA, USA
(I run the bar at a small pub. We’re near a major university, so we get a lot of college kids. Some of them are real jerks and we sometimes have incidents with guys who are clearly trying to get girls drunk and take them home. We make a point to step in whenever we see it happening. On this particular night, one such guy is plying his trade on a girl sitting at the bar.)
Guy: Come on, gorgeous, have another. Here, I’ll match you shot-for-shot, okay?
Girl: (much more intoxicated than him) I don’t… I’m not sure I wanna… I’m getting too drunk.
Guy: Aw, come on. You want to have fun, right? Here, have my drink, okay?
(I’ve seen enough and am about to step in when a stranger suddenly walks up. He’s only about twenty-something, but looks really “old school”— he’s wearing an old-style suit and tie and is walking with a cane he doesn’t seem to need, and he’d hung up a bowler hat on our coat rack. In a bar full of t-shirts and shorts, he sticks out like a sore thumb.)
Stranger: Excuse me, my good man. I believe the lady said she was done drinking.
Guy: Excuse me, buddy, but I didn’t ask you. If I want some b**** to drink, I’ll give her a f****** drink, f*****.
(The whole bar goes silent.)
Stranger: Call me what you will, but I will not have you impugn the lady’s honor. Leave, or I will remove you myself.
Guy: What, you think you’re a bouncer or some s***? Let’s go, right here.
Stranger: Very well. Do you have a sword?
Guy: A what?
Stranger: A sword? For… no? Ah, more’s the pity. I’d hoped to settle this like gentlemen. Well, one mustn’t fuss.
(He sets his cane down on the bar, and it makes a rattling noise. I didn’t check, but I’m willing to bet there was a sword in it.)
Stranger: (Getting into a boxing stance) Shall we?
(The fight is over fast, before me and my coworkers even think to call security. The stranger bounces the aggressive guy’s head off the bar and knocks him flat. He pulls out a wallet and lays thirty dollars on the counter, and takes back his cane.)
Stranger: There, that should cover his drinks and mine. I think I’d best escort the lady home, she’s had a bit of an unfortunate night. I trust your staff can handle the gentleman on the floor?
Me: Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’ll kick him out. Thanks.
Stranger: Simply doing my duty. Come along, miss. I’ll need your address to walk you home.
(He turns to walk away for a moment, then turns back.)
Stranger: If I could trouble you for just one more moment, what year is it?
Me: It’s 2012, why?
Stranger: Two thousand and twelve? My goodness, that was a devil of a jump. Fascinating. Good evening, madam!
(He turns, takes his hat and the drunk girl, and leaves. We’ve never seen him again, but we still tell stories about the time we might have been visited by a time traveler.)