
Every morning before work, I stop at the same Tim Hortons for my morning coffee. Regular readers of Sean's Random Thoughts will undoubtedly remember stories of the bus driver who constantly missed passengers, the scowly Boston Red Sox lady, and the moron who couldn't read EXIT ONLY on the door (Check the "Tim Hortons" tag on the left sidebar for those stories). But this week, there was a new incident.
I was in line waiting for my turn to place my order, and I was next up once one of the clerks was free. Suddenly, I feel a push from the side, and I see a kid, maybe 6 years old, who has shoved his way through a space that was far too small for him to get through. Instead of just going around the other side, this little ruffian decided that he had to power his way through this small space between me and the half-wall, pushing me, so that he could get through.
Now, I'm a big proponent of parents being responsible for how their kids behave in public, and had my son ever done something like this, I would have been flat-out mortified. So, I expected some sort of verbal discipline coming from behind me in line, where the parent(s) must have been. Not only did I hear nothing, but this kid, who had bright red curly hair, making him look like some sort of evil reject from Children of the Corn, now had run up to the front where the glass display of donuts and cookies, and muffins was, and face-planted into the glass, arms spread wide like he was trying to hug them all.

So I went up and placed my order, and as I was ordering, the boy starts pounding on the glass with his palms, and screaming "AAAAAAHHHH!" At this point, everyone, staff and customers alike, are looking at the kid, and the mother says "Fraser!", which does nothing. I step aside from the counter and Fraser runs over to the open counter, even though his mom is still 4 back in line. He then puts his hands on the counter and hoists himself up, looking like he's just going to balance there like a performing seal with his feet laid out behind him, but no...in a flash, he has pulled himself up onto the counter, stands up, and reaches for the full display of Gift Cards on top of the glass case. The look on the employee's face was priceless.
Only then does Fraser's mom scream "FRASER, GET DOWN!", which again, does nothing, so she has to...wait for it...shove people aside...to get to front, grab the little twerp and drag him down off of the counter.
I wonder where he learned his behaviour from?
So then, last night, my girlfriend and I were in London to watch a playoff baseball game. We decided to grab some dinner before we got to the park, and just take it to the game, and since we both were craving some sort of burger, we were keeping our eyes peeled for a decent burger joint as we drove through downtown London. Just as it seemed like we weren't going to find anything, we passed a small diner on a corner with a sign that said Burgers / Fries / Shakes. Seemed like exactly what we were looking for, so we stopped in. It was called Prince Albert's diner, and the food was fantastic (we had two burgers, fries, onion rings, and a raspberry shake), but the interesting thing happened while we were waiting for our food.
We were sitting at the old-school front counter when this grubby old guy came in. He was wearing an old white tank top (the traditional "wife-beater", although I hate that name for it), cargo shorts, and a baseball cap. He stopped behind me and started talking to the waiter behind the counter. I looked at my girlfriend, who was looking over my shoulder at him, and saw a look of horror come over her face. This conversation then followed:
"What is it?"
"Some people just shouldn't wear white tank tops."
"I know...like maybe, anybody who is a male."
"Well, it's not just that. It's also that his fly is open."
"I'm not even going to look."
And then Johnny-Fly-Open sat while waiting for his milkshake, and tried to strike up a conversation with the waiter who took his order, who was trying his best to make his milkshake as fast as possible and not have to deal with him. As he tried over and over to engage the waiter, he would always respond with a hurried and disinterested "mm-hmm" or "Ok."
The reason it was so funny is because of the conversation he was trying to get him to participate in. Let me first of all explain that the waiter was about 6'7", had piercings in his face, and complete sleeve tattoos. Now this street vagrant is trying to talk to him about music.
"Hey, did you hear the Scorpions are coming out with a new album? Yeah, it's gonna be the last one before they retire. Too bad. Yeah...I saw them at Bayfest last month. Totally rocked."
What on earth makes this guy think that the guy behind the counter is a Scorpions fan? He was clueless anyways...just ranted on and on, then took his milkshake and wandered out into the road to cross the street. (I wish that last part was a joke.)
So I started the day with a devilish red-headed imp who wanted to climb on the counter, and ended it with a white-tank-top wearing, fly-open, drunken hobo wanted to talk 80's hair metal.
Who else can say that?
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