A few days ago Niki and I packed up Zoey and Charlotte and headed to Blue Coast Burrito for lunch. It’s a favorite lunch spot of ours because a) the food rocks and b) they still let us in (and presumably don’t spit in our food) even though the girls make a mess of the floor each and every time. We’ve never had a bad experience there. Yup, until a few days ago. And it wasn’t the food, it was the other customers.
It started when we were crossing the parking lot. There we are: two hot mama’s (one with a cute preggo baby belly) each carrying a kid that weighs at least 21 pounds. And each carrying a diaper bag. Some guy driving a brown sports car (and I’m sorry but who the hell picks brown for a sports car? Mini van, yes. Sports car, no.) swerves around us, not slowing down at all. He was a little too close and a lot too arrogant for our comfort. Niki, always the model mom, says, “Don’t mind us with the BABIES!”. I, the model of nothing, say, “HEY A**HOLE! DON’T MIND THE F****** PEDESTRIANS WITH F****** BABIES!” Nice. I’ve really got to start working on that.
So after almost getting run over by a brown sports car, we go inside. The staff is great (as usual) waving to the girls, saying how cute they are, etc. Niki orders, gets her food, and heads over to a table. I’m waiting for guacamole. When I turn around, I see Niki carrying Charlotte and dragging two high chairs. Again: a pregnant woman carrying a todler and dragging two high chairs. I also see 4 tables of men within arms reach of her. 4 tables of men, 8 men in all, doing nothing.* Now don’t get me wrong — Niki is buff, she can handle herself. But come on. A little help please? But no. Niki gets to the table on her own and without accidentally-on-purpose knocking some lazy guy in the head. Not that I know anyone who would do that or anything. I’m just saying that an angrier, less model-like mom might consider such a thing.
Then I get to the table. The guys at the table behind us are deep in conversation about their profit margin or the latest memo or something. You can practically hear them roll their eyes when yet another baby arrives in close proximity. To get to my seat I have to squeeze between the chair back of one of the guys and our table. Which I do and only mildly graze him with my ass as he is ignoring the fact that a woman and child are trying to use the table behind him. Then I try and squeeze Zoey and her high chair into the table. The high chair fits under the table top so really we only need room for Zoey’s . . . girth, I guess. She’s 14 months, she not that girthy. The man doess not scoot his chair in an inch. True, this man perhaps has some girth issues of his own, but there were at least 6 inches between him and the table. Eventually Zoey is crammed in there up against the table. And I only hit the back of the man’s chair once. Or twice.
What is with people? Would it kill them to be slightly aware of what is going on around them? Is it too much to ask for people to give up 10 seconds of their super important lives to help a pregnant woman haul a high chair to a table that’s 5 feet away? Or scoot their chair in 2 inches? Or perhaps not run over a model mom and her poopy-mouthed side kick in a parking lot? I think not. And those people? They can SUCK IT.
*Yes, I would still be complaining if the tables were full of women. It just happened to be men on that day