This morning at around 2:20 AM I went to Brand-X Pizza to pick up some food I had called in and ordered. The incident that followed saw a wave of misanthropy wash over me. The song "Political Science" by Randy Newman, and more specifically the line "let's drop the big one now," began playing in my mind.
Literally the second I opened the door the very first thing I heard was the following:
"You know who ought to be ashamed?!? You know who should be ashamed?!? The God-damned Democratic voters in this country!"
The guy who said it, nay yelled it, was standing in one corner of the store surrounded by his friends who were similarly clad in North Face and Mountain Hardware fleece jackets. He was rocking a high 'n' tight haircut which, last time I checked, isn't really in fashion with anyone except the guy next door who collects Nazi memorabilia and eventually shoots your dad in the head because he's a closeted homosexual. Therefore, I figured he was most likely in the military. This was later confirmed when he mentioned something about going to Dubai, but I digress.
When I saw the crowd, I dropped my eyes immediately. Given the fact that I've voted straight Democrat in two elections, this wasn't a good scene for me being jammed in a 10'X5' space with what I'll describe as a pack of drunken, racist, frat boy, conservatives if you'll pardon the redundancies.
When I got inside, I heard one of them say in a very slow and slurred tone "hey Big Momma". When I looked up, I realized that this dude worked at Momma Goldberg's, and The Big Momma is my sandwich, so... we were very distantly acquainted. This guy fit the other stereotype of a drunken frat kid with a silver spoon up his ass. Where as the first guy was certainly drunk, anger seemed to clear his mind and make him relatively well-spoken in short bursts. The other guy had turned into a drunken Truman Capote. The alcohol had softened and stretched his voice out and made him very touchy/feely on his bros. Despite this, you'd still get the impression that he'd be down for committing date rape at any point if the opportunity presented itself.
While making the aforementioned observations, The Army Man had started up again with the yelling.
"Fuck the hippies, fuck the environmentalists. I say we cut down all of the trees and make paper out of them and then burn it. You know what PETA is?!?"
Then his friend said "You're on a roll tonight, Lyle"
Lyle: "Fuck the hippies"
In another corner of the room, there was a guy who looked as if he smoked weed and played soccer both on a fairly regular basis, but not a "hippie" by any means. Lyle asked him, "Are you a hippie?!?" Before I could hear his answer, I noticed that Truman Capote was staring at me. When I looked at him, he said, slowly as ever, "Big Momma." I turned away just in time to hear Lyle, the guy who doesn't know where oxygen comes from, start up again:
"Fuck the hippies, fuck the terrorists. Seriously, what goes through your mind when you strap a bomb to yourself and think 'Today I'm going to defeat the U.S. Military,' what goes through your mind? What goes through your mind?!? A FUCKING MORTAR! That's what goes through your mind!"
At this point Lyle looked right at me, he was looking for an "Amen, brother" I suppose. Instead, I looked at the floor again, grinning to myself and waiting for what was next.
"I hate gay people! Fuck the faggots! I hate gay people. Do you know what they do? They stick their dicks in another man's butthole..."
What happened next in this sequence of events was incredible. Immediately, I mean without any pause, the very next thing out of his mouth after the word "butthole" was:
"...Can you do the flop?"
He then began doing "the flop" which, when performed in a very small room full of dudes, or anywhere for that matter, is the gayest thing I've ever witnessed live. For those of you that are unfamiliar with "the flop" as I was just 24 short hours ago, let me ruin your innocence with this instructional video:
So, now you know what I mean. He did that in front of everyone immediately after saying that he hated gay people, he tried to impress the men in the room with the squishy rattling of his genitalia. No need to check his straight card at the door.
Despite Lyle's act of kindness in the form of a traditional Buckhead, Georgia scrotum rattling, things were pretty tense in there for me. My food was still not ready and I was just kind of stuck there listening to this asshole, still being stared at by Capote who was making a steady and slurred commentary on the fact that I get my sandwiches without mayonnaise and tomatoes at Momma Goldberg's.
It was at this point that a young lady entered the store. She was smashed too; a barwhore with thick makeup, pumps, and a green dress. Her right leg crossed the threshold without incident, but her left was not so lucky. Her heel got caught somewhere along the way, and she fell forward past me and into the crowd next to me including Lyle and Truman. When she came back up, she asked people if they'd already ordered. When she got to me, I told her that I had not been served yet and since I had a call-in order, she would be behind me in line. This did not make sense to her. She said, "Why didn't you say that when... I asked before and you said that you had already ordered." Instead of telling her that she hadn't asked me, and that she was a rude, over-privileged, drunk, cunt that needed to be run over by a car, I just reached over her head while she was still talking at me, handed the lady $15 bucks and grabbed my food. Over the cries of "She's hotter than you, bro! Let her go first." I left as quickly as possible.
