I nearly came to blows with a dude today.
I was sitting at 4th ave computers in Lacey, trying to get my computer fixed. For one reason or another, my computer can no longer access the internet. Very frustrating. Anyway, for those of you who have never taken a computer to a repair shop let me tell you, it is a waiting game. Luckily when I got there, three technicians were helping customers and I was the only one waiting in line. In other words, I would be up next. The line also had a 'take a number' dispenser, and I also took my number. I had the next number and I was next in line. I sat smugly in the waiting chair, confident with the knowledge that my computer problem would be fixed as soon as there was a vacant technician.
But that is when the waiting game commenced. After sitting confident for ten minutes, I realized I wouldn't be served in a timely fashion. Computer issues are difficult and time consuming. I could be waiting hours for the next vacant spot.
So I waited, and waited, and waited. And then the action started.
This guy sidled up to the line. You know the guy. A line sidler. He walked up to the front of the line like he never even saw me. He was a short yet buff Asian man. He stood with his head up, encroaching on one of the customers at the counter. Shuffling his feet and moving in close. He looked like the kind of guy who is always ready to pick a fight. You can tell when a guy is looking for a fight; just in the way he holds himself. All pompous and cock-shouldered, like he is giving a douchey 'up you' to every one around.
At first I think he hasn't seen me. I cough a little bit, making my presence known. This part kills me. The guy has the nerve to look at me, look me up and down, and not surrender his position. He doesn't back down, but looks at me as if to say, "yeah, like you are going to do anything about it?" At this point I understand that he knows he snaked my position, and he is willing to defend himself.
I get nervous. What am I going to say I ask myself? Obviously, I have to say something. I can't back down like a punk when he takes my spot. I have to confront him. Should I start off nice, and then get adamant that he cut me in line? What if we wants to fight? Do we step outside? Do I fake with my left and hit him with my right? What if he screws up my face? My face is my livelihood, man, what if he hits me in the face?!?!?!
Then I get mad. Like real mad. I start flexing my muscles in the chair. I can feel the testosterone shooting through my veins. He is going down, baby, he is going down. Will I fight dirty? Psshhhh of course I fight dirty. Filthy little rat boys who cut in line don't deserve a clean fight. I will go right for the face and then maybe knee him the groin. OHHHHHH he is going to get it soooooo good....
And then he leaves. I guess he couldn't wait any longer. I like to think he felt my eyes on him like white on rice, but perhaps not. After getting my computer fixed, I felt so jazzed about the whole thing, I blasted gangster rap in my car the whole drive home. I was singing along. Tupac. How do you want it? How do you feel it? Coming up like a something in a something... I kinda trail off here. I felt like Tupac. I felt tough.
But then I look in the mirror. I'm wearing nerdy glasses and my Undertaker t-shirt. My nose is running a little. He could have taken me for sure.
I still think I look like Tupac.
I was sitting at 4th ave computers in Lacey, trying to get my computer fixed. For one reason or another, my computer can no longer access the internet. Very frustrating. Anyway, for those of you who have never taken a computer to a repair shop let me tell you, it is a waiting game. Luckily when I got there, three technicians were helping customers and I was the only one waiting in line. In other words, I would be up next. The line also had a 'take a number' dispenser, and I also took my number. I had the next number and I was next in line. I sat smugly in the waiting chair, confident with the knowledge that my computer problem would be fixed as soon as there was a vacant technician.
But that is when the waiting game commenced. After sitting confident for ten minutes, I realized I wouldn't be served in a timely fashion. Computer issues are difficult and time consuming. I could be waiting hours for the next vacant spot.
So I waited, and waited, and waited. And then the action started.
This guy sidled up to the line. You know the guy. A line sidler. He walked up to the front of the line like he never even saw me. He was a short yet buff Asian man. He stood with his head up, encroaching on one of the customers at the counter. Shuffling his feet and moving in close. He looked like the kind of guy who is always ready to pick a fight. You can tell when a guy is looking for a fight; just in the way he holds himself. All pompous and cock-shouldered, like he is giving a douchey 'up you' to every one around.
At first I think he hasn't seen me. I cough a little bit, making my presence known. This part kills me. The guy has the nerve to look at me, look me up and down, and not surrender his position. He doesn't back down, but looks at me as if to say, "yeah, like you are going to do anything about it?" At this point I understand that he knows he snaked my position, and he is willing to defend himself.
I get nervous. What am I going to say I ask myself? Obviously, I have to say something. I can't back down like a punk when he takes my spot. I have to confront him. Should I start off nice, and then get adamant that he cut me in line? What if we wants to fight? Do we step outside? Do I fake with my left and hit him with my right? What if he screws up my face? My face is my livelihood, man, what if he hits me in the face?!?!?!
Then I get mad. Like real mad. I start flexing my muscles in the chair. I can feel the testosterone shooting through my veins. He is going down, baby, he is going down. Will I fight dirty? Psshhhh of course I fight dirty. Filthy little rat boys who cut in line don't deserve a clean fight. I will go right for the face and then maybe knee him the groin. OHHHHHH he is going to get it soooooo good....
And then he leaves. I guess he couldn't wait any longer. I like to think he felt my eyes on him like white on rice, but perhaps not. After getting my computer fixed, I felt so jazzed about the whole thing, I blasted gangster rap in my car the whole drive home. I was singing along. Tupac. How do you want it? How do you feel it? Coming up like a something in a something... I kinda trail off here. I felt like Tupac. I felt tough.
But then I look in the mirror. I'm wearing nerdy glasses and my Undertaker t-shirt. My nose is running a little. He could have taken me for sure.
I still think I look like Tupac.
How sick is this video?
2 comments:
Pick your defining moments carefully, you may have to pay for them.
I've got that anger fight feeling a lot of times, I even fight for real sometimes.(I always loose). I realised not so long ago that fighting was not "cool".
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