The Husband is maddened by my inability to not take it
upon myself to teach the world to behave. He portends that it might well be be the death of
me, literally. He sees a rude driver, being lectured to by your host, shooting
me in the moment.
Recently, we went, in the early evening, to a new
favorite NoPo eatery with a guest. We opted to sit outside on this sunny,
particularly gorgeous gloaming.
The other 5 tables quickly filled with diners, bringing
with them, a collection of children under 6 years old. Without any organization
on the parents’ part, the young people were allowed, encouraged really, to run
around the small outdoor dining room, caterwauling & scampering within
inches of me & my whiskey.
After about 10 interminable minutes of the children’s cacophony,
I was sent me over the edge & to The Husband & guest’s horror, I stood
up & announced: “May I have the adults’ attention? You are all missing the
perfect opportunity to teach young people how to behave in a restaurant. If I
had wished to have dinner surrounded by undisciplined, unruly tots, I would have
chosen to be at Chucky Cheese. I don’t blame the youngsters, but I do, most
certainly, blame you parents for not teaching them manners. You should all be
ashamed of yourselves!”
One father, one of those wane, ineffectual Portland sort
of daddies, exclaimed that I was very rude. The waitress applauded. We were
re-sat at the bar.
Yesterday, on a dog walk, a woman flew out of her front
door at full gallop, just to lecture me, unprovoked, about people not picking
up their pooch’s poops. I had been meditating on the beauty of spring & the
quality of the morning light when I was startled by her speech just a few
inches from my face. I could feel the spit as she shouted. I showed her my bag
of dog doo, indicating that I do indeed pick up after the terriers, as a good
citizen always should. I shrugged my shoulders with a big question mark on my
face. She would have none of it, going on & on about how annoyed she was
from people not picking up canine crap on her weed infested parking strip.
My retort: “I feel sorry for you. It must be quite a burden
being so very unpleasant & considerably unattractive. It is a deadly
combination being beastly looking & obnoxious. You might want to consider
dropping one of those characteristics…”
She harrumphed as the terriers & I walked away.
Bless you.
ReplyDeleteHa ha ha. Love your outbursts - well done.
ReplyDeleteYou should have shrieked,"Get out, you little no-neck mon-stahs!"
ReplyDeleteMy friends and I call them cry-pods.
And yes, I blame their often yuppie parents, as well...
My husband has yelled a a few 'BRATS' when we have been out for a pleasant meal. It happens everywhere. There are several cafes in our area that have a 'no children' area. One place in Hollywood does not allow children under ten years of age.
ReplyDeleteBravo on both accounts ! Love it!!
ReplyDeleteHow did this happen, tots unbridled? In the same way that I have decided some individuals feel their public cellphone conversations are 'performance art', I think yuppie parents think of their offspring as the 'floor show' at restaurants. Your taking them to task? I both fear for and worship you.
ReplyDeleteAt restaurants, I ask for the manager and politely inform them that they can either have my money and that of all the people I refer to their restaurant or they can have the money of misbehaving guests but not both. I also inform them that if they say nothing, then I'll leave and wil feel justified for not paying as they have failed to fulfill their half of the implied contract.
ReplyDeleteThe last person who yelled at me and my dogs, saw my pop bag emptied on their lawn.
More power to you! Children and teens are ruder than ever, thanks to weak as rain parents. I act just like you in public. These two children were fighting on the bus on my way home from work in Washington, D.C. Nobody said anything...but me that is. "If you two don't sit down and stop acting like heathens I will throw you off the bus. Where are your parents?!" They sat down and shut up for the rest of the trip.
ReplyDeleteDon't ask me about the fighting teenage girls I broke up on the same bus...
Immanuel
www.dlconfessionssequel.com