My Life is Hard to Understand at Times

Tuesday, I took my sister on a four hour trip to Birmingham, AL to see her
Otolaryngologist. I won’t rehash all her nasal cavity/ staph infection problems again. No, this entry is about people. One who I confronted and one I wish I would have had the opportunity to confront.

Sitting in the doctor’s office, minding my own business, reading a six month old issue of Sports Illustrated, I settled in for at least a one hour wait. Normally, I just ignore the people in the waiting room of a doctor’s office or any other waiting room, for that matter. I mean, most likely, I will never see them again. In some cases that is a good thing. One woman and a Mohawk, ear ringed, nose pierced, tattooed young man, appearing to be in his late teens or early 20s, came into the office. The young man was already raising hell with the woman (who I later found out was his mother). She was very petite, quiet and appeared to be cowered down for some reason. But, her son did not let up with his smart ass remarks to his mother. He was making an ass out of himself, making everyone else in the waiting room uncomfortable and appeared to not be letting up. At this point, all I was doing was glaring at him, hoping he would say something to me. After about 10 minutes of this diatribe from this little punk, the receptionist came out from behind the front desk, told punky brewster to either quiet down or leave. He then proceeded to give the receptionist hell. I still kept my cool. His mother, in an attempt to quiet this overgrown, punk era baby, tried to placed her hands on his left shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He then vigorously pushed her hands back away from him. In the process of doing this, punky brewster knocked his mother’s glasses off of her face. That’s where I drew the line.

Before I knew it, I was over there as he was still pushing the woman who gave birth to him and I grabbed his right wrist…FIRMLY. He stood as if to take a swing at me. At this I told him, “You are having a bad day, junior. It’s about to get a lot worse for you if you take that swing at me. That’s a guarantee.” I wasn’t joking. He then raced out of the waiting room with his weeping mother slowly walking behind him. The receptionist thanked me. Incidents such as this happen to me or people around me all too often. Trouble seems to follow me like…well, you name it. My grandpa was right; there’s not need to ever go looking for trouble. Trouble can and will always find you. I just didn’t expect trouble to find me in a waiting room in a doctor’s office.

To complete this trip, as I walked with my sister back to my Honda Civic, I noticed a dent on the left front side-panel. Cussing enough to make a sailor blush, and looking around for punky brewster, my sister said look at the windshield. Between the windshield and wiper, there was a note. I opened the note…”I am the guy who accidentally backed into your car. I had to drop my car insurance due to external factors. I am a recently laid-off hospital worker. I couldn’t afford car insurance and feed my two kids, my six month pregnant wife and keep up a mortgage. I am working three jobs during the week to keep a roof over our heads. I am also an alcoholic. That’s the reason I lost my job of 12 years. There is no reason for me to expect you to understand. I am truly sorry.”

The police said they will do everything they can to find this person. But, with no witnesses... I’m so mad today, I could spit nails. One thing about my life; it’s anything but boring.


Thanks for proving that chivalry is not dead...can you imagine what happened when that poor woman left with her unruly offspring??!! Arrgh!

I tagged you as a favorite of mine in a cute, fun little game...

Stop by and play if you can...

Thanks for the kind words. I actually just reacted without thinking. I get myself in trouble doing that sometimes.

I'll check out your blog and see what is going on.

Man, what an obnoxious kid. Good for you, though! I hope she will give him a little tough love eventually and kick him to the curb. Maybe one day he will figure out how great it is to have a mom who loves you and learn to appreciate her. Argh!

Wendy, it's a sad commentary that some kids don't know how lucky they have it. This kid had probably been coddled his entire life by his mother. His mohawk, erring, tatoos, etc., are a sign of rebellion against her...and himself, I suppose in some respects. Thanks for stopping by.

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