As a young man, I used to frequent a local fast-food restaurant. This is, of course, is not abnormal. What was different about this particular joint, however, is that it (for some reason) seemed to attract every crazy person within a 20-mile radius. Of course, my teenaged self was thrilled by this fact, and a buddy and I quickly became regulars at the daily ‘shows.’
One day — as we were being regaled by an older gentleman, very determined to warn us about the “Giant Space Glacier in the Sky” — we were approached by a business man (in a three-piece suit), who obviously took exception to our (admittedly childish) form of recreation.
If you know anything about teen boys, you may already be wise to what happened next. We laid into this ‘suit’ like a Christmas ham, berating him with every half-baked argument we could think of, finally capping off our tirade by dubbing our unintended (and unsolicited!) guest with the then-despised moniker of ‘The Man.’
You Got Served
That’s when “li’l Donald Trump” spiraled into a tirade of his own, ending with the premonition that:
“One day, you’ll become ‘the man’ you so despise.”
Untouchable as kids are at that age, we quickly dismissed the incident with mocking laughter, plus a few colorful phrases (‘F—You,’ ‘Up Yours,’ etc.) we were certainly taught better than to utter at all, much less direct to an elder. Unfortunately, the last laugh belongs to that businessman. Years later — recounting this scene, dressed in a three-piece suit of my own, scrambling to meet a last-minute deadline — I have to accept the grim reality that I am “the man.”
And so I’m now left to wonder every time I stop by my favorite coffeeshop, if the teens in the back are snickering at me and my ‘grown-up’ garb. Don’t worry, lads, your time will come soon enough.
by Peter P. Gaseoustania
Residential Life Magazine