Ah, the "Rest Area"

Yes, folks, the rest area off the freeway is always a good place for blog fodder, I should know.

I love fat people, I would like to pre-empt this entry with that.

Onto the business at hand:

I stopped at the rest area we always stop at halfway to get Jim's daughter, every other Friday. The boys and I got out of the burb, and I lit a smoke (shaddup) and waited outside the ladies room for them to do their business. I won't let them into the men's restroom after the last time.



So Deuce, my youngest son, comes out with an extremely large woman tight on his heels, and she says to me:

"Excuuuuuse Meeeee, Ma'am!! (should you be calling a person ma'am if they are at least 30 years your junior? I think not) could you teach your son that the handicap bathroom is for handicapped people only??! "

"You seem to be walking just fine, I see no oxygen tank, and just because you can't fit into a regular stall, does not make you handicapped! What did you do, EAT the person that had that handicap parking permit???"



Okay, I didn't really say that, but I was thinking it, I did say, however:

"Could you ask a little nicer? You don't know me."

She was all apologetic after that, explaining that she didn't use to be handicapped (really, I figured you ate yourself that way) and was trying to be all friendly after that. She was probably horrified with something she saw in my eyes while I was imagining choking the shit out of her for approaching me that way.

So Deuce says, "I said I was sorry!" and I asked him what was he sorry for. Apparently he knocked on the door of the handi-stall, and she said, "Go Away!!"

Hi, freak! I almost went back and gave her a piece of my mind, nobody is rude to my kids, not even fat handicapped people!!