Saturday morning, as Metro and I were closing off the street for the Farmers' Market, it was a typical quiet morning. It was maybe ten minutes before 7 a.m., and a couple of vendors were already setting up.So, the picture is of my market block, at 7 a.m., from the middle of the block, where I normally set up my table. On the sidewalk is where I drop off my box of miscellaneous stuff: a bright table cloth, brochures, photo albums, recipes, my water bottle...you know.
Well, this weekend, I was walking back towards my spot, when I saw an old guy on one of those mobility scooters, stopped at my stuff. He sees me coming, shuffles back into position on his roadster, and toddles off.
Sitting on top of my basket was a lone, blue bottle cap. That rat-bastard had rummaged around, found my water bottle, emptied it, tucked his 5 cent recycling profit away, and left the bottle cap (and wet sidewalk) as spoor.
"Hey, buddy!" I yelled after him, "That was my water bottle!"
I start walking quickly, following him down the sidewalk, yelling. He doesn't look back...just keeps on truckin'.
At this point, I have to stop. Otherwise I'd be chasing down and kicking octogenarian butt, and that would just not be cool.
His pennies of profit cost me another $1.50 to hydrate myself for the morning. And left me with such a load of annoyed anger, that it took me two days to blog on it.
Well, I doubt age has turned him into an ass. I'm sure he always was one.
Lori
1 comment:
Old people suck. And I agree with you completely on the fact that he probably always was a jerk. BUT I am sure a sense of entitlement has crept into his jerkdom with the onset of father time...
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