The Aristocrats
Emmi and I are at a wedding for one of her best friends this weekend. We're staying in this awesome bed and breakfast (aside: I've never stayed in a "BnB", as I've heard them called, before. I have no idea what the protocols are. Also, ".com" looks like ".corn" when I don't have my glasses on).
Earlier tonight we were at the rehearsal dinner, along with copious amounts of people I don't know. When it was time to get some food, I crippled my way up to the end of the line after most of the traffic had dispersed. There was a lady in front of me, who I think was an Aunt of the groom or something like that. It should be noted that I was actually aware of this woman's story, since I'd overheard her telling it from a distance. She's like a long lost relative who hasn't seen the groom/bride/whatever in about 14 years, which I extrapolated to mean that she likely hadn't seem a lot of the family in that block of time. I would imagine if you find yourself in a situation such as that combined with a situation such as a wedding, you're bound to be a bit nervous. Let's see how this all played out, shall we?
So I hobble my way up to the end of the line. As I approach, she looks me up and down, and looks at my cane.
"Now, that's not just a trick to get to the front of the line, is it?" She says. I just sort of look at her, half expecting her to whip out a hammer and start beating herself about the head with it.
"No." I manage to say.
"Oh. So what did you do to your knee, or is there something else wrong with you?"
I just look away. Ashton's gotta be around here somewhere, and I'm gonna find the little fucker. I mean, really. It's none of your business what my ailments are in the first place, but do you really think that I'm going to respond in a positive manner to that specific phrasing? Apparently, yeah.
"Oh look. Here comes Betty Steve (I didn't catch the actual name). She drove today. I'm going to let her cut in line. Come on in, Betty!"
"uh..."
"Oh, you don't mind, do you? Oh! And here's Diamond Pete Patty Marie. He was in the car, too. You guys can all get in front of me."
Diamond Pete Patty Marie looks at me and looks at her, and then starts having some sort of strained internal dialog that was taking a really long time. He finally spoke, saying to me, "Heh heh - yeah, you don't mind, do you?" I think he was just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I don't actually think he was a shitfucker.
So there I was. (Brain the size of a planet...) Standing there, trying to ignore a woman with the apparent brain power of parsley, leaning on my cane with the entire county cutting in line in front of Veggie Jammie Tom Sue.
"Just... go." I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.
Veggie kept trying to talk to me as we worked our way through the line, but I ignored her. I didn't want to say what was really on my mind because I didn't want to start a whole "thing" at our friends' wedding. I probably should have said something, but I knew she must have been nervous and feeling out of place.
That doesn't excuse what she said or did, mind you. How rude and/or stupid do you have to be to [even jokingly] accuse a cripple - a stranger - of faking it for sympathy, and then once you've established that they're not faking it, making them *stand* there for a while until you've let everyone with a vowel in their name cut in front of you in line? That's a trick question by the way.
As I was finally walking away, she said something else to me. I don't remember what it was; I wasn't paying attention, but I do remember that the tone was akin to "We're buddies now!"
I glared at her. If my eyes could have burst into flame, they surely would have.
She apparently got that message.
After Blogging Mint:
The rest of the night was a lot of fun. Emmi looked beautiful and her friends are really fantastic people who are fun to hang out with. I overheard some sort of plan about shaving a goat, but couldn't surface any exact details. I'll keep you posted as the story develops.