Do Not Enter (or, "It's A Marshmallow World")

So there I was, happily leaving Walmart with marshmallows for the hot chocolate. All in all it had been a painless visit to one of the most awful places on Earth, which in retrospect must have been divine foreshadowing.

And as I walked through the exit door through to the vestibule, approaching through the other side was the Rude family. Mr. Rude, Mrs. Rude and little Rudy Jr. The Rude family was attempting to ENTER through the same door I was trying to exit from. Or egress, if you prefer a fancy and slightly archaic vocabulary. Now the Rude family weren't merely trying to enter through the wrong door; a crime of mere social convention I commit frequently myself. No, they were determined to walk through the door side by side, BLOCKING the door from honest hard working citizens like myself who take it on good faith that they will be able to leave the building through the door marked "EXIT."

So of course I did what I always do when rude and inconsiderate people are in my way, I walked right up on them till I was about three inches outside their personal space and snarled, "excuse me." Shake your head and disapprove, but it is a surprisingly effective method of shaking the cattle from their stupor usually. In this situation a regular rude person would realize, "oh shit, we're blocking the entire door that this nice if somewhat intimidating man is trying to leave through," and step aside. Maybe even say "sorry."  A regular rude person would, perhaps. Mrs. Rude was having none of it. She stood her ground and said "excuse YOU," forcing me to dodge running directly into her at the last minute like a game of chicken and continue on.

Now, I'm not the most confident person out there, and Mrs. R's clear disgust at my behavior forced me to second guess myself. Maybe, I thought, it WASN'T the exit door? Maybe on THEIR side it said "enter" and I was the rude one. Why a door would say enter on one side and exit on the other, I don't know. But retail logic is an oxymoron and this was Walmart so... maybe? Why not? I second guessed myself, which I do all the time, and I stopped and I turned around and I saw how, from this side, the door had a big red sign that says "DO NOT ENTER." And again, not that I'm a big stickler for that convention, but in this case the woman and her Rude brood were clearly in the wrong. So I said, out loud, not even for them but just because I am an out loud motherfucker, "It says Do Not Enter," and kept walking.

"Hey big guy!" I heard from behind me, but kept walking. I exited the building proper for the bitter cold of the outdoors, and I was living in some Jack London novel in my head when Mr. Rude caught up with me. "Do you have a problem?" He asked, trying to sound intimidating and rough while keeping up with my pace. Based on his ridiculous little gray mustache I was easily 20 years younger than this guy. He must have wanted to impress his wife with what a man he was.

"No, no problem now," I said, tactfully not adding that I HAD had a problem with his cunty rude wife 45 seconds prior, and that they might have a problem with first grade level reading comprehension, but that now my only problem was getting the marshmallows into some hot chocolate stat.

"Do you want me to knock your head off?" Mr. Rude kindly offered.

I replied, without missing a beat or pausing my stride, "What would I do without it?" People never know how to take it when I react flippantly to their anger and threats. Truth told, I was ready to be hit. I wasn't worried. There were like fifteen cops at the entrance to Walmart and they would break up the fight before the guy fell and broke his hip. Worse thing that would happen is I would get hit in the head, and hell if he hit me in the right spot he might loosen up this one tense knot I have on my temples. But it didn't come to that. Cooler heads prevailed. The guy was out of the line of sight of his wife, so there would be no impressing her. Actually if he got the cops involved she would probably be pissed. And it was very cold out and windy. So they guy made this really frustrated sound like "ughn!" and went back inside.

Another tense situation I entered, and exited, because of my wit.

I left Walmart and had some delicious hot chocolate. Marshmallows included. Mr. Rude went home and had to spend the rest of his days sleeping in the same bed as some idiot illiterate middle aged hag. Pretty sure I took the win on this one.