Ain't No Time to Hate!

I bought a bumper sticker last week in Kenosha that says "Ain't no time to hate!" It's the perfect lead-in for a story about something that happened to me (okay, maybe I happened to it...) a couple weeks ago. Joe and I were in line at Jewel and were waiting for the cashier to finish processing a Latino family's groceries. They paid some in cash and some w/ vouchers, I think. There were two women in front of us; a woman probably in her 50's or 60's and another in her 80's, I guess--mother and daughter. The daughter was SO loudly complaining about waiting that at first I thought she had Tourette's Syndrome. She was spewing forth all sorts of ugliness about immigrants, Welfare, non-English speakers, and what her taxes were going to. They must have been able to hear her because she was getting louder and louder. I hope for their sake they didn't speak enough English to understand.
To lighten the mood a little I remarked kind of just in their direction, "So, are you looking forward to Christmas?" The older woman half turns her face my way and says in a thick Slavic or Russian accent, "Who you talkin' to? I don't know you. You mind your own bizness..." Her daughter explained, "Oh, she's just saying that because I'm talking about these trashy people who should go back to their own country!"
I was fixin' to blow--serious storm warnings in Rieman town!!! I turned my back to them and started singing, "Oh, I wonder what my Jesus would do...yes, I wonder what my Jesus would do...if he were here today, what would he think of all this hate? Yes, I wonder what my Jesus would do!" (I think it was to the tune of some coal miner song Bucky Halker performed....Joe thought sure it was a real hymn.)
Since the vile, steady stream of vitriol was still forthcoming, I then moved into the show-stopping Let There Be Peace on Earth. I didn't sing at the top of my lungs; I now wish I had gotten the whole store singing.
On went the diatribe. I was so extremely angry that I was a little afraid that I'd get into a shouting match with her. In order to keep my sanity, as I was unloading my groceries I was singing Peace on Earth when I was upright, and muttering (pardon my French), "Fuck you, you nasty bitch" whenever I bent over to pick up more to put on the checkout counter.
When I finally got to our turn in line, the sweet young man who was our cashier and I almost hugged--we smiled huge smiles at one another and commiserated about that awful, awful woman and her mother. Here she was telling the Latinos to go back to their own country, when her own mother isn't even from the US!!

I know I should have stepped up and done something, but what? You can't combat hatred with anger or with more hatred--I KNOW that!
I had an unsettling thought about that woman, that nasty, nasty woman. Can you imagine what her life was like growing up? And what if she still lives with her mother? Her whole life has been one of intolerance, suspicion, fear, misinformation, and hatred. She probably developed these "coping skills" very early in order to survive.
What are your thoughts? What would you have done?--Patty