(warning: mild profanity)
Today is Saturday – the day before Father’s Day. We decided to do our Father’s Day dinner with my extended family at my house tonight instead of tomorrow. I woke up this morning with a mental schedule which started with going to Stew Leonard’s (the Disney of grocery stores) as soon as the kids were done with breakfast.
“Are you insane to go to Stew’s on a Saturday?” I kept asking myself. Dad wanted lobster and hubby wanted steak for their Father’s Day dinners, and Stew’s was the one place that had that (and more) on sale at the same time. So I decided to suck it up and brave the lunatics who shop there on Saturday for sport because, afterall, it WAS Father’s Day and my men were entitled to lobster and steak. To add a little craziness to the mix, I needed to bring my almost-three-year-old twins with me because hubby had other things to do.
I pulled into the parking lot at about 8:15, surprised to see that it was already pretty crowded.
“Hmm…” I muttered. “Now I’ll have to walk the length of the parking lot with the two hungry monkeys screaming for cookies.” But as I drove around the lot, I was psyched to see that THE prime parking spot in the store – that one spot that’s only a few steps from the front door – was free.
Shopping was bearable. I walked in with a mission, slowed down only by shoppers strolling through the store who were blocking the aisles by stopping at every possible little food sample. When I walked out of the store with my overflowing giant double-kid bus of a cart, a punk in a macked-out car (you know what I mean – giant spoilers on the back, coffee can tailpipes, dark tinted windows, bass booming) slowed to follow me once he realized that my parking spot was sort of close to the door.
‘Are you freaking kidding me? Is he really going to wait while I unload my groceries AND my kids??” I thought to myself.
Well, “wait” is a nice way to put it. While I was unloading my bags and trying to figure out how to make enough space in my car without crushing the bread, killing the lobsters and allowing the watermelon to roll and crash around the car, the guy in the car alternated between honking and screaming profanities in 5 second intervals.
“Move faster, you fat bitch…” he screamed out, while my toddlers parroted him. After about the 5th time, I put down my groceries, secured the cart and walked over to his car.
“HEY, YOU LITTLE DIPSHIT. I have a cart full of groceries and two angry toddlers. I’m not going load my groceries or my kids into the car any faster simply because your lazy ass can’t walk the extra 100 yards to the door. So I suggest that unless you want some crazy middle age Asian chick going apeshit on you in front of your piddly friends, that you either shut the f*ck up, or park somewhere else.”
I wasn’t proud of my outburst, but felt immense satisfaction when his friends all piled on him, making fun of him for being called out by the “crazy bitch.” In what I assume was an effort not to be embarassed any more than he had been, he looked at me, flipped the finger and drove off muttering, “F*ck you, bitch!”
As I finished loading my groceries and snapped my kids into their carseat, I heard a woman’s voice.
“Excuse me? Are you leaving?”
I looked over at her and noticed that she had one kid about 2 years old in full meltdown mode and a crying infant (~1 month old) in the car. She had that trademark “Mom with new baby” look – dazed, exhausted, slightly desperate. I smiled and said, “Yes. Leaving right now,” and I saw a look of relief come over her face clearly stemming from the fact that she got one of the best parking spots in the store lot. To her, this meant that she didn’t have to drag her screaming toddler and crying infant any further than they needed to be.
Karma was present today at Stew’s. It made my Saturday morning trip nominally bearable. It put a punk in his place. And it gave a little break to a new mom in desperate need of one (in the form of an awesome parking spot at the store).