intrusive thoughts

I gave up and let the intrusive thoughts win. I’m not proud of myself, but I finally did one of those things I always thought about doing but refrained from because it’s a bit rude…

I blame the heat. The heat, the lack of a/c in the luxury 2006 Taurus that I drive with custom body work done by my teenage son and/or other inanimate objects (yes, I am implying that he can be inanimate at times, because nooooo one ever makes jokes about lazy teenagers, right??), and the perpetual state of chaos that is my weekend brain because only weekday brain remembers to take its Adderall. It’s all of those factors that caused me to raise my voice, or maybe I’ve just had more than enough of entitled behavior from strangers, which is probably more the case. In my defense, I did apologize to the friend accompanying me and to the server! 

I imagine some context would be good right about now, huh?

One of my lady pals took me to run some errands (see aforementioned lack of air conditioning in my car). I got an insanely big craving for a dinner roll. Yes, just a dinner roll. That damn TX Roadhouse sign whispers naughty things to you sometimes when you drive by it, you can’t control it! She agreed that butter slathered carbohydrates sounded like a fantastic idea, so she flipped the car around. Unfortunately for us, it was a Sunday at 5 pm, and you know what that means; old people and families with kids are out for dinner, so the place was packed. It was hot and I was hungry, so I had zero waiting ability. We opted to go to a different place in the area, no big deal. 

(This is the point that if I were feeling extra “Karen-y” I’d bitch about how their front end people suck, but I also understand that everyone has off days, so we will let it go)

We’re seated and anxiously anticipating what’s likely gonna be a below average meal, discussing the weekend’s events and whatnot. A family with approximately 80 children come in and are seated near us. Ughhhhhhh. What’s left of my patience begins to wain. Yes, I understand that children are people too and that parents should be able to go out to eat with their crotch goblins, but damn, don’t go out if they’re obnoxious. I’m a mom. We stayed the hell home when mine was acting up, and if he had a mood swing while we were out, he was immediately removed from the premises for what we called “Having a Conversation” in private about our behavior, not returning until he chilled out, or we’d just go the hell home. If I could control my strong-willed, unmedicated ADHD child, you can teach yours tricks too.

Turns out the Duggar Family in our section weren’t  going to be the issue though….

From CLEAAAAAAR ACROSS the restaurant, someone’s definitely-old-enough-to-know-better demon spawn evidently started going Super Saiyan because that little bastard let out a scream so disarmingly shrill that a banshee would be jealous of their range. We’re talking a potential future opera diva or a front person for some now-defunct and/or cancelled hair metal band. You can see people around visibly cringe, myself and my cohort being no exception. Fine. Whatever. Shit happens and kids are assholes, so we shrug it off and go back to our conversation to be interrupted by yet another piercing scream. I feel myself beginning to twitch. 

(It is at this point where I would have IMMEDIATELY removed my child from the vicinity to talk about how we don’t scream like we are being brutally murdered in the middle of a crappy chain restaurant, well, unless we’re actually being brutally murdered in the middle of a crappy chain restaurant, of course.)

Silence.

A third blood-curdling shriek rattles the walls. I wince and sit on my hands to control the desire to punch the booth. Everyone’s looking towards who must clearly be the spawn of Sam Kinison and Roseanne Barr. 

Another brief reprieve of silence.

A fourth scream. I let go and smack the table out of frustration. I smile politely to the server who comes to refill our waters and thank her. 

A few moments later, a fifth scream from the abominable little shit….I should be embarrassed by what happened next, but I am not…

I straight up snap and blurt out, “TAKE YOUR DAMN KID OUTSIDE!!!” I wouldn’t say that I yelled, but I most definitely raised my voice in my best stern, disciplinary, and disapproving mother tone.  Our waitress arrives immediately after with our entrees, and I apologize to her for my outburst. The look on her face is nothing but pure amusement. She assures me that it is totally fine. “Ugh. Kids are the worst. I’m a mom, I am allowed to say that. Besides, I think I was just saying what everyone else was thinking!” I reply. She laughs, agrees, and goes about her shift. 

Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, we have multiple servers ask us if everything is fine at our table, if it all tastes okay, and then a manager comes up to us (and no one else) to see if we need anything. We assure them all that we are fine, of course, and life returns to the shade of normal that we’re used to. 

I have three takeaways from this experience:

1. If you want really good service, yell at the patrons being assholes since your servers can’t. They will thank you and your water glass will never be empty.

2. I am able to solve this misbehaving child issue! Know what they need to do? Make it like back in the day when they had smoking sections in restaurants, except make it kid and kidless. Corral those little heathens in one area behind a divide, and make it soundproof. That way parents get to take their brood out for breakfast and the child-free can nosh without noise in peace just like they intended. 

3. The heat is stupid and rude and very inconsiderate. So are the people out in it. Summer is full of sticky, loud hellspawn because of school being out. Summer should be outlawed.

(Oh, right…and if you were wondering, there wasn’t another peep out of that little demon.)

FIN.