It was in Los Angeles that an Armenian assassinated the Turkish consul. And it was in Los Angeles that a mob of exiles from Iran attacked the palatial estate of the Shah's sister.
On the bus one day, I saw one elderly man shaking with rage start shouting at another, "Bastard! Russian bastard!" as their wives looked on helplessly.
"Please... we're in America now," pleaded the elderly Russian, to no avail.
After some urging from his wife, the man reluctantly let the Russian be -- but only after his wife had begged him so.
For the life of me, I couldn't tell you what country the man who accosted the Russian was from. From Finland to Iran, take your pick. For most of the other startled passengers, we individually and silently contemplated which atrocity from the treasure trove history afforded us had been behind the scene we had just witnessed?