Some people scare me

So the Lipizzaner Stallions (www.lipizzaner.com) happened to be coming to our small town today. My mom had seen them as a child and had long gushed over them, so Mr. Samoa and I decided to go. We only lasted until intermission, for as it turned out dressage is not my cup of tea, and sitting crammed up in basketball stadium seats for two hours is not the fibromyalgia's cup of tea. (The horses, however, were indeed very pretty, and I got a nice stuffed horsie. ) But that is not the point of this blogging.

Intermission came, and Mr. Samoa and I were in line at the concession stand, being as we had had no dinner. We came to the realization that we were going to need to go get cash, as concessions were, well, concessions (i.e. a small Coke and a popcorn cost more than my grad school tuition) and they did not accept debit cards. I was griping about this, and I said something, I don't even remember what exactly, but the end of it was something about nothing costing less than $3.00. This part will be forever etched on my brain, because of what happened next.

Suddenly, I felt the heels of both my feet being squashed, as a booming voice shrieks right in my ear "NOTHING LESS THAN THREE DOLLARS? ARE YOU SURE!! THE NERVE OF THESE PEOPLE!! [or similar]" I turned around, and a woman with gigantic frizzy hair was literally standing on the backs of my feet, shrieking Right. In. My. Ear. about the cost of refreshments. Just carrying on about this. "Uh, ma'am, you're standing on me," I said. No response; I doubt she heard a thing, as she was too busy trying to relieve me of all hearing in my left ear. I tried to move away from her, and she kept moving with me, using her Outdoor Voice all the while. Mr.Samoa is not the quickest thing on the uptake, and he cheerfully chirps, "We could get nachos!" So, as she starts shrieking about nachos, I said, through my gritted teeth, "No. I do not want nachos. We are going to our seats. Now." I honestly think she would have kept following us if I hadn't dragged Mr. Samoa away from the line stat. It would appear that the local lunatic asylum had organized its yearly outing. :P * In the end, we wound up leaving early and going to Taco Bell for dinner, and got doughnuts for dessert. All was well that ended well. :)

*NB: I know it is the trend these days to attempt to explain away the behavior of clods by claiming the possibility of their having some sort of mental disability, mental illness, and the like. Nice try. I spend about 3/4 of my life around people with mental disabilities, and have mental illness running like the mighty Mississippi through my family tree. I can spot both a mile off. This was a bigger clod than the ones normally thrown at Ozzfest. Let's save the sympathy for those who actually need it, eh? :P