Monday, October 15, 2012

Contact Sport

Hockey.  Love it.  Going to the Saturday night college game at CC, we were all excited.  It was a rather crowded night and there were a lot of "pardon me's" spread around as we made our way to the seats.  A few people were already sitting in the row when we got there and we moved past an elderly couple as best we could.

We were seated above the penalty box and as the game began, I leaned against the railing to get a look towards the opposing corner of the rink.  The next thing I know, this woman next to me places two fingers just above my right breast and presses, saying: "You need to sit back.  I can't see.  You can't lean on the railing, I'm sorry."  Only she wasn't and there was no apology in her tone.

At first, I just stared at her thinking, Oh uh-uh.  I am not your child, lady.

This is what separates a Southern woman from the rest of the world, right there.  Never, and I do mean never, would a grown, Southern lady put her hands on another person and tell him or her what they "needed" to do in that situation.  Maybe if you were hitting on our man in a bar or attempting to correct one of our children without permission...but never on the first attempt to get someone to move.  My mother would have beat me with a shoe in front of them all if I had tried to pull that off.  Even at my grown age of 40.

Of course, being a well-bred and raised Southern lady, I knew I shouldn't flip out on this old biddy with mushroom hair and yellow teeth, so I resorted to a better sort of revenge. Because of a challenge with seating, we had 4 seats available to us where D and I sat and another two over and above us where the boys sat.   Being that our 'boys' were my twenty-something stepson and teenage nephew, at the first period break, I encouraged them to sit with us.  Returning to our seats, I moved past to the last of our four, gesturing for the kids to sit in the seats D and I had previously occupied.  When the oldest boy sat next to our very hospitable row neighbor, my pleasure skyrocketed as I noticed how displeased she was with the situation.

When the opposing team scored a point, I overheard my stepson exclaim rather loudly, "Oh fuck.  C'mon, guys.  Goddamn."  Seeing the Crypt Keeper's lips purse even further at his vulgarity nearly created a buzz in me.  I then also noticed that she was obviously speculating whether or not the boys had a right to be in those seats.

The game was amazing with our team scoring the winning goal just as the clock hit 1:00 remaining.  Settling in at a restaurant for a bite afterwards, our energies were still incredibly high as we recounted the events of the evening.  When we broached the subject of Mrs. Incordial, my stepson smiled broadly and explained, "after what you told me about her, I spent the remainder of the game cussing as loud as I could at every possible opportunity".

One could only hope that she's learned her lesson about asking rather than commanding other people.  But then again, being the karma-loving person I am, I prefer to think that she will continue to be miserable in her life not because she's drawn a bad hand, but because she's not a good player.

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