(I’m working at the entrance of a local heritage fair when a white pickup truck pulls up. The driver, a large middle-aged man, gets out and stomps towards my desk.)

Customer: *slams his hands on the table* “What the f*** do you Mexicans think you’re doing?”

Me: *confused* “Sir, we—”

Customer: “Look, I don’t want you d*** w******* here in the first place. I want you all back over the border where you belong!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re being very offensive, and this is—”

Customer: “But if you’re going to come to my godd*** country, you’re going to act like real Americans and not fly those f***ing Mexican flags and speak that s***-eating language, and you aren’t gonna celebrate being a bunch of f***ing foreigners!”

Me: “Security to entrance!”

Customer: *jumps back into his car and starts driving off* “Go back to Mexico!”

(The racist driver never returned. The heritage event in question, by the way, was the Scottish Highland Games.)