As I was taking pictures with the Proud Boys at the restaurant, a freakish transgender in combat boots, fishnet stockings and a man-bun snuck into our private room via a back staircase. It seems that a rainbow-haired waitress had spotted me during the 30 seconds I was passing through the public part of the restaurant, and had called in my location to her antifa pals.

Poor Fishnet Boy surely had expected to burst in on 99-pound me having a nice dinner with a group of sweet College Republicans. Instead, he (she?) walked into what must have looked like a Hell’s Angels convention.

Not so brave, now, eh, Fishnet Boy? He/She bowed his head, pretended to use the cash register, and quickly made his exit.