Have I mentioned I hate the city? The thing is an incomprehensible maze, reserving the oddest and most despicable behavior for my visits. The other day, breaking a longer than normal streak of idyllic urban existence, my friends and I hit a pizza parlor/theatre combo: the pizza parlor adjoining one of those theatres selling cheap tickets for movies that came out months ago.
We arrived early, bought our tickets, and proceeded to the dinning establishment next door. The pizza place was packed, and upon entering, we found ourselves already placed in line, the queue pressing us against the doors we had just passed through. After a few minutes of slowly progressing toward the counter, a stranger sidled up to us. This bearded, pensive individual gave no salute nor any explanation of his presence, and I erroneously assumed he must belong to the party ahead.
A young girl, possible eight years old, joined this man. She proceeded to boast, telling the stranger, whom we can only assume her relative of some sort, a confused tale of how she behaved, in a way I would describe, as a brat. She looked up to this man, her body language begging for his approval. Giving her little eye contact, I heard him utter profane outbursts at this story. She followed suit, matching his language. Her story eventually culminated with her idol telling her to punch the other girl, at which point the parallel parties reached the counter and a confused looking employee.
The lady behind the counter asked: “Who hasn’t been served?”
Realizing that inaction would mean losing our place in line, I quickly stepped forward and ordered. Upon completing my business, the bearded man mumbled that I had, “[Fudged] him over.”
Attempting to salvage the situation, vainly hoping that honest dialogue could explore who was truly in the wrong, I faced him and apologized, querying him for an explanation. Unwilling to face me, he turned away mumbling, and as far as I know, never ordering anything. My skin burned with a sick, fiery feeling, the kind of uneasiness you get while ridiculed by a teacher in front of the class.
We found one isolated area for seating, something of a converted basement, and waiting for our order, I watched as this man came down the stairs, saw us, and left. I pray that little girl chooses a better path than the one she’s on.
Tale Told 