Scene: Portland, OR. My three kids and I are finishing dinner at a restaurant. I'm frantically texting Rawr because I'm having an issue and need assistance with directions. My kids are hanging out near the exit pretty much getting in the way of every member of the staff trying to do their job.
(Heads up: Totally going to write "effing" in place of... you know. The other word)
Radom Hippe: I am SO EFFING SICK OF THIS! GAWD. Stupid baby.
Me: [looking up from phone]
Random Hippie's (supposed husband): So am I. [gets up and disappears into the restroom]
Me: [eyeing the both, not seeing any baby]
Random Hippie: This morning sickness is absolute &%$!*.
Me: [jaw dropping in disbelief. Flinching when RH notices me looking. Trying to look ANYWHERE ELSE]
RH: Hey. Lady. How long did you have morning sickness with those kids? [gestures WITH HER MIDDLE FINGER at my three precious babies]
Me: Ah...
RH: This is effing bullsh*t. This kid is already a pain in my ass and I'm only five effing months in.
Me: [cough] Um. I think that's terrible.
RH: Yeah. Tell me about it.
Me: [getting over shock] Yeah. No. I think it's terrible that you would talk about an unborn, innocent child that way.
RH: ExCUSE ME?
Me: [at peace with the fact that I'm probably going to get shanked in a fast food restaurant by some crazy Hippie Chick, but you know what, it's okay because after spending twelve years managing one (restaurant, not hippie), I find it oddly comforting and pretty much think it shouldn't happen any other way]
Still Me: You. Speaking about your baby. I sort of hope you give it up for adoption because otherwise HOLY SHIT LADY. [standing to leave because, hello, I'm going to get my arse kicked]
[noticing that RH and her partner are surrounded by an assortment of sleeping bags, backpacking equipment and cigarette cartons. OMG, they're transients]
RH: You're a bitch.
Me: I know. So are you. Good luck with that.
And I left. RH just sat there. I think she was high.
Really? REALLY?
I still can't wrap my mind around it. People like that should be forcibly sterilized.
**Totally not dogging on actual Hippies. In fact, I should probably go back and change my description of her, but in all actuality that's too much work. I will accept the consequences of my writing.
(Heads up: Totally going to write "effing" in place of... you know. The other word)
Radom Hippe: I am SO EFFING SICK OF THIS! GAWD. Stupid baby.
Me: [looking up from phone]
Random Hippie's (supposed husband): So am I. [gets up and disappears into the restroom]
Me: [eyeing the both, not seeing any baby]
Random Hippie: This morning sickness is absolute &%$!*.
Me: [jaw dropping in disbelief. Flinching when RH notices me looking. Trying to look ANYWHERE ELSE]
RH: Hey. Lady. How long did you have morning sickness with those kids? [gestures WITH HER MIDDLE FINGER at my three precious babies]
Me: Ah...
RH: This is effing bullsh*t. This kid is already a pain in my ass and I'm only five effing months in.
Me: [cough] Um. I think that's terrible.
RH: Yeah. Tell me about it.
Me: [getting over shock] Yeah. No. I think it's terrible that you would talk about an unborn, innocent child that way.
RH: ExCUSE ME?
Me: [at peace with the fact that I'm probably going to get shanked in a fast food restaurant by some crazy Hippie Chick, but you know what, it's okay because after spending twelve years managing one (restaurant, not hippie), I find it oddly comforting and pretty much think it shouldn't happen any other way]
Still Me: You. Speaking about your baby. I sort of hope you give it up for adoption because otherwise HOLY SHIT LADY. [standing to leave because, hello, I'm going to get my arse kicked]
[noticing that RH and her partner are surrounded by an assortment of sleeping bags, backpacking equipment and cigarette cartons. OMG, they're transients]
RH: You're a bitch.
Me: I know. So are you. Good luck with that.
And I left. RH just sat there. I think she was high.
Really? REALLY?
I still can't wrap my mind around it. People like that should be forcibly sterilized.
**Totally not dogging on actual Hippies. In fact, I should probably go back and change my description of her, but in all actuality that's too much work. I will accept the consequences of my writing.
I'm proud of you for saying something Em! What a shitty hippie...
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