My folks visited last week. Before they came we had talked about doing an open top bus tour of the city, so on Friday after Meg and I got off work we met up with BB’s mommy and daddy and went in search of ticket sellers.
I was in a pretty foul mood as work that morning had been less than ideal. Even a burger from the Burger Joint didn’t do much towards putting me in better spirits. And it was hotter than a screaming kumquat.
We ended up having to walk a bit farther (or further?—you tell me) than expected, but finally, in the distance, we spotted the proverbial red vests of the ticket peddlers. Upon our approach, two of the red vested vultures swooped down upon our small party and immediately began bickering over who had gotten to us first. Their argument grew so intense that I believe they forgot about us, the paying customers, for 7—possibly 8—seconds. Two members of our party (mother and BB’s mommy) stepped to the side to let the fracas unfold as it would. The vendors did not even notice.
Finally, the remaining four of us yelled that we would just take out business to an idle red vester if they couldn’t sort their differences out in a civilized fashion. This snapped them back to reality, and BB’s daddy went with one (Red Vest #1) while I, Meg, and father huddled up with the other (Red Vest #2).
Red Vest #2 proceeded to pull out the bus tour brochure and spout incoherent musings on the different options, all while furiously scribbling on the pages opened in front us. Hindsight allows me to know that he was trying to describe the various choices, but, at the time, it was not helpful…at all. Especially as he kept glancing at Red Vest #1 and asking, “How many is he buying?” (referring, of course, to BB’s daddy). Despite our efforts to get him to concentrate on the task at hand, we could tell his mind was with Red Vest #1 (and, of course, BB’s daddy).
By this time, father, Meg, and I had pretty much lost any semblance of patience (remember, I had had a bad morning that day). We distracted Red Vest #2 long enough to let him know we wanted 4 tickets, and father pulled out his wallet while #2 rang us up. Father didn’t pull out enough money at first, which he realized, but before he could retrieve the lacking cash, Red Vest #2 began jabbering about how father needed to give him more. It was, as they say, the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Meg and father offered a quick 1-2 invective combo, and I quickly followed up with the KO punch (almost literally, but not quite).
Let me pause here and say that I consider myself a person of moderate to not bad self control. I don’t make it a habit of lashing out at strangers, and I often try to take things in stride no matter how infuriated I am. In this particular instance, especially as I was with Meg and father, I wouldn’t have thought I would have any problems maintaining my temperamental status quo. Sadly (and perhaps funnily) this was not the case.
Fed up with #2’s insolence, I delivered 2-sentence-length lesson on customer service and then, looking him straight in the eye, I calmly said, “I ought to kick your ass.” Let’s just say there was a change in mood.
Red Vest #2 began apologizing, saying how excited he gets. Meg walked away. Father remained silent. #2 offered his hand, expressing his desire to bury the hatchet, and we quickly completed the transaction.
Father and I walked over to Meg, who had just told mother and BB’s mommy about my bizarre behavior. I was still steamed, but the reality of what I had just said was beginning to kick in. We were all kind of standing around expressing our bewilderment at what had just happened when #2 came over and again offered his hand. I shook it—again—and he went on his merry way.
When I look back at this incident, I chuckle. But I also do a mental double take. I told a stranger I ought to kick his ass in front of Meg and father. Who does that??? I guess I do, but I never would have thought I would. Sometimes you witness or experience something that really chaps your hide, and you get angry, right?
If I ever see Red Vest #2, I’ll probably offer some sort of apology, although I’m sure he’ll have no idea who I am. You never know, though. Perhaps I’ll be walking to the train from work one day and in one of those serendipitous moments that only happens in movies, I’ll spot #2 from across the street, our eyes will meet, and we’ll run across the crosswalk, stopping traffic, to embrace and shed tears of remorse at the rudeness we displayed in our first encounter. Perhaps we’ll get vente mochas together. Perhaps I’ll take him to the Burger Joint. Perhaps we’ll be BFF. Perhaps…
Sara looks so innocent here, doesn't she? Micah what did she do?
Sara and I in front of a fancy restaurant in Leesburg
Gabe doing a little dance! I didn't teach him those moves, promise!!
