White Man's Boombox
"Excuse me."
The tone denoted neither manners nor any intention to be polite. They were words of misplaced authority and presumed obedience. And the proximity was far too close to be beseeching. He was standing over my right shoulder and I could feel my neck beginning to flush and my throat tighten.
"Excuse me. Whatever that is, could you please turn it off ?!?"
I discerned from his bulging eyes and striated neck that he was upset. The small vein in his forehead pulsed and was apparently supplying some sort of energy source for his hairstyle to stand erect, but I couldn't divert my eyes. His hair seemed angrier than his words.
"Surrrrrrre."
Not everyone appreciates Adam Ant. I would never have thought before that moment, so vehemently.
He turned on his heel slowly and walked back to his four children. They wanted ice cream. He wanted justice. He wanted vindication for having his meal of average Chinese and lackluster service ruined by Thoughtless America, with their blaring electronic gadgets and dirty hippie music.
He tried to maintain some manner of stoicism, but our tables were only three feet apart. Captain Righteous Hair of Anger had just created a socially awkward chasm filled with repressed rage and violent tendencies. There was nothing our party of four could do except sit there and stare down into its abyss with great big doe eyes and clenched lips, making the sounds of a thousand tiny elephants.
Behind us: "We're leaving."
And they did. Just like that. Children are such clueless, good-hearted, dutiful creatures. They moved along behind their glowering guardian singing happy songs and chitchatting like they were on a picnic. And as he crammed his family of five into a 2005 Mustang 5.0, with racing stripes, all I could say in a lisping falsetto voice is, "Someone's compensating."
I'm such a crappy role model.
"Excuse me."
The tone denoted neither manners nor any intention to be polite. They were words of misplaced authority and presumed obedience. And the proximity was far too close to be beseeching. He was standing over my right shoulder and I could feel my neck beginning to flush and my throat tighten.
"Excuse me. Whatever that is, could you please turn it off ?!?"
I discerned from his bulging eyes and striated neck that he was upset. The small vein in his forehead pulsed and was apparently supplying some sort of energy source for his hairstyle to stand erect, but I couldn't divert my eyes. His hair seemed angrier than his words.
"Surrrrrrre."
Not everyone appreciates Adam Ant. I would never have thought before that moment, so vehemently.
He turned on his heel slowly and walked back to his four children. They wanted ice cream. He wanted justice. He wanted vindication for having his meal of average Chinese and lackluster service ruined by Thoughtless America, with their blaring electronic gadgets and dirty hippie music.
He tried to maintain some manner of stoicism, but our tables were only three feet apart. Captain Righteous Hair of Anger had just created a socially awkward chasm filled with repressed rage and violent tendencies. There was nothing our party of four could do except sit there and stare down into its abyss with great big doe eyes and clenched lips, making the sounds of a thousand tiny elephants.
Behind us: "We're leaving."
And they did. Just like that. Children are such clueless, good-hearted, dutiful creatures. They moved along behind their glowering guardian singing happy songs and chitchatting like they were on a picnic. And as he crammed his family of five into a 2005 Mustang 5.0, with racing stripes, all I could say in a lisping falsetto voice is, "Someone's compensating."
I'm such a crappy role model.
posted by Shawn Passwaters at
11:09 PM
4 Comments:
Granted, I was the Rude-kin who forgot to turn off his SLVR, but the degree of over-reaction with how the situation was handled, was the stuff of junior high flashbacks. I seriously thought there may be a rumble. It was disconcerting in a Lord Of The Flies way.
I had to forward this to someone at work because of the "Captain Righteous Hair of Anger" That is awesome...
Thanks for my comment BTW. Being called an "Elf Family" by anyone else would not have been so endearing. Love it.
I am not short, I am from a long lineage of Elves. "Tam the Elf, what's your favorite color?"
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