Anyway, I was going to sit down to eat my burger and fries. There is an outside deck and it was fairly crowded, but there were a couple seats available. So I promptly lay on the counter my food right above a seat that was next to this couple. And the male of the couple says, "Aup -- my son's sitting here," and he quickly jerked the stool right next to him.
I did the polite Minnesota thing. No, I only did a blend of the polite Minnesota thing. See, my old age has given me repeated instances of honing my passive-aggressiveness -- come to think of it, that's a Minnesota thing too -- to the point where I am getting better at shooting off comebacks that are nice on the surface but is delivered with a side of bile and bite. Maybe it's not good in a polite society to be so on-edge that you have such a witticism at the ready, but we are no longer in a polite society. So, as I picked up my food to move down to another open seat, I said, "Ope, sorry about that," and I know I had an unmistakable tone I said that with. Heh-heh.
It's not as if the old guy was lying; his son came out from the bathroom and starting eating with his parents. I could've just left it there ... but that's not me. From that point onward, I was thinking of one more shot, one more dig whereby I could taunt or bait him, maybe even pick a fight with him if he is as prone to anger as I am. Hell, my parents were coming home -- why not fight?
(Aside: This place is great if car-cruising was a thing. The place is fronted by a three-lane road, with one lane in the middle for cars taking lefts. It's speed-controlled, too, which is a good thing for pedestrians. It's also good for drive-bys. All guys who are strapped need to do is roll by at 15 miles per hours and light up the place, and me. Glad I didn't have any enemies out to get me then -- well, besides this dude. Anyway, back to my story:)
I finally decided I would look at him, and I mean stare at him until I got his attention, then say goodbye to him. Not say anything, but acknowledge his leaving in a way that would make him notice. That would assume a few things. For one, he would have to leave before I do. For another, he would have to walk my way in order for me to flag his attention. And, for finally, he would have to see me. But if all those conditions were met, bam! I got his ass!
So he and his family got done before me. Then, they walked on the sidewalk in front of me. See, this is my chance. They were walking slow, so I just stopped eating and looked at him, intently. He glanced at me -- and I just gave him a wink, a "See ya around, pal!" type of thing. And he ... gave me a smile.
Uh, what was that? He didn't seem triggered or put off. In fact, he didn't seem, uh, mad at all. Now, he could've been cursing me up and down by the time those three got into their car -- "What the hell was that?" type of thing. Or -- um, he just honestly said that stool was for his son, and that's all he meant by it. Which means I overreacted to something that just happens. And there's nothing more to it than that.
Shit, was that all that it was?
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