Assault with a Decorative Weapon

In my defense, the lady stopped in the middle of the aisle. I just want to make that clear from the outset here. Seriously, who stops in the middle of an aisle?

This is a pet peeve of mine that runs back many, many years. In high school it is was the group of people that stop in the middle of the busiest stairs to chat while 200 people try to get around them. In college it was the drunk chicks that stopped right in front of the bar, thus preventing anyone else from getting a beer. And in the real world, its people that stop in a busy walkway to answer a cell phone, chat to a friend or just go brain dead and keeps the rest of us cattle securely locked in the chutes. I need a cattle prod.

You know these people, we’ve all seen them. Are you one? If you are, you should hate yourself.

I was in the grocery store, right at the beginning. We weren’t actually anywhere near the food aisle, we were just coming in. I had Little Hoss and Bubba Hoss loaded up in the deluxe cart, the one that looks like a police car. It’s the Cadillac of shopping carts; nothing but the best for my kids. Normally, I handle these big behemoths like I’m on the shopping cart racing circuit. I can whip your ass to that last loaf of bread.

Hossmom is afraid to drive these big carts. I don’t think she can handle the power. Give me four on the floor baby, I rock.

Today though, Little Hoss and Bubba Hoss were having somewhat of a problem. Little Hoss wanted to ride in Bubba Hoss’s car seat and was trying to pull him down from his precarious perch. I am also an expert at pushing the cart with my hip while I whack kids at the same time. At least I thought so.

So I admit it, I wasn’t paying attention. Whamo! I smack a lady right in front of me.

It wasn’t a tap, it wasn’t an easy bump or shove. You know when a shopping cart smacks your heel and your shoe comes off and you get really pissed off. This was worse than that.

I hit this lady bad. The top of the cart whacked her square in the small of her back causing her to actually hyperextend her back. She grabbed onto her cart and stumbled forward, for a moment there I thought she was going over. If a cop was nearby, it would have been assault.

She whipped her head around and stared right at me.

What do you do in a situation like this? It was an accident, I swear. I was distracted by Darth Maul trying to pull the gimp from the cart. I admit that I wasn’t looking ahead. Immediately I said I was sorry in my most mortified voice. I limply pointed to the two weasels who continued to fight for the primo spot in the cart as my lame excuse. I did every thing except prostrate myself at her feet.

I was stumbling over my words continuing to try and apologize. I continued because the “fuck you” look was the only response she was giving. So awkward when you continue to talk and get nothing back.

The understanding thing here would have been for her to tell me it was no big deal and we could both just move on down the road. However, I don’t think that this lady was in the forgiving mood. She looked from me down to my kids and then seemed to pass her silent judgment that said “Well, I see where you kids get their behavior.” This is where I started getting a little pissed.

I mean, I probably had no right to be pissed as I pretty much rearranged her spine, but come on, it was an accident. It’s not like I get my kicks by going around with a shopping carts ramming old hippies and their wheat grass teas. How would I know that hippies like to shop between 9am and 10am on the third Mondays of every month?

During my stare down from Angry Judging Lady, I continued to apologize. This went on for a good 4 minutes without a word. All I wanted to do was slink away. I wanted to go back to my slimy hole with my slimy kids, never to bother you again Ma’am.

I still just can’t say though that it was my fault entirely. Try something for me. Go out to a farm and start a stampede. Then lay down in front of them. What do you think is going to happen? Ok, don’t really do that because then you will sue me for inciting stupidity, assuming you live through the stampede. But you get my point.

This lady just stopped in the middle of the walkway. It was as if the choice to go straight for the milk or stop and browse the book aisle was just too much for her. So she stopped to consult the gods, maybe throw the bones and get a reading. And as I result, I ran her down like a botched mob hit.

Eventually, I just bowed my head and took my two heathens down towards the junk food aisle because obviously as a father of such rough necks I would never feed them good vegetables. I also felt I had to get out of there before her personal injury lawyer showed up.