She eyeballs me as I approach the soda fountain.
I’m cute… for a 40 year old, I assure myself. That explains it.
Her hairnet sits tightly atop her head and cuts off circulation.
Well, maybe THAT explains it.
And then she makes her move.
‘Excuse me, sir. You can’t get soda if you have a water cup!’
‘B!t*h, this is a soda cup,’ I murmur.
‘Huh?’ But..but this..this IS a soda cup!’
I grow bolder with each step and I’m indignant by the time I reach the fountain.
‘Why, are you the damned soda fountain police or something?”
My volume goes from 7 to 9.
‘If so, get on filling the ice because this shit is empty.’
I march stridently back to my table.
When I sit down, I compare my kids’ water cup to my soda cup and what ya know? Same damned cups, same damned size.
But that’s on them tho.