Crazy Old Lady

Old people crack me up, especially the ballsy, crazy old lady types. My Stepmother is one of these old ladies. She’ll be 81 in December and lives alone on the Florida coast. She drives a giant car and until recently smoked the stinkiest cigarettes she could find.  Her diet consists of at least one White Russian a day and whatever else she can scrounge up. One look in her pantry reveals various crackers, Coffeemate and Splenda packets but no real food. She doesn’t cook. She eats out for most meals. When Hurricane Dorian was announced last week, I asked if she had a plan and enough food and water.  She informed me she was fine.  When it appeared her area would receive a direct hit, I begged her to come to me in Texas. She refused to fly.  I offered to drive 20 hours to get her.  Again, she refused. As a native Floridian, she told me she had dealt with hurricanes all of her life. She claimed she’d never evacuated not even for Andrew in 1992 and she was not about to start. I just said, “Yes ma’am.” What else could I do?

A few hours ago she called to tell me the storm had passed and that she and her elderly neighbors were working together to get each other’s hurricane shutters down off the windows.  She said they were all tired of not being able to see outside and they refused to wait for the lawn crew to do it. Again, all I could say was “Yes ma’am” and thank her for letting me know. I know it’s futile to try to get in touch with the lawn crew. She thinks she’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof. This behavior is not new to me.  This is the same woman who flirts with waitstaff young enough to be her grandkids.  A woman who wears plunging necklines even though she shouldn’t.  Last year, while riding the Disneyworld Monorail with me and my daughter, she loudly lamented how horrible it would be to be so big you had to use one of those electric scooters to get around while a man fitting that description was in earshot. My daughter and I were mortified and I repeatedly told her to hush.  She has zero shits left to give so she just kept talking.  Deep down she knows she can pretty much pull anything she wants and can get away with it because of her age. It’s that no fear of consequences that makes me can’t wait to get old.  I mean yeah I can wait. I don’t want to be frail or wrinkly even though I know it’s coming. I just can’t wait to pull crazy in public.

I had one of those moments where I really wanted to pull crazy the other night. I was eating dinner alone at an In and Out Burger after my son’s football game. I was shocked to find only myself and one other guy eating inside the restaurant as it’s usually packed. About halfway through my meal, a young couple came in. They were between 17 and 25.  I know this is a giant age difference but I’m horrible at guestimating ages.  Anyway, they walked all hand in hand up to the counter and proceed not to order but to loudly and passionately kiss.  I’m not a prude.  I don’t mind a little PDA but these two looked like they were going to rip off all their clothes and do it on the white tile floor at any moment.  The poor kid behind the counter waiting for them to order looked like he wanted the floor to open up and grab him.  They were about three feet from my table and I, quite frankly, just wanted the free show to move along.  They finally broke apart long enough to order and found a table ridiculously close to mine.  Remember the whole restaurant is empty save me and another guy. They could have picked any other place.  So, they sit down right across from me and make out some more.  Apparently, they needed air or maybe their lips hurt because they stopped kissing long enough for the girl to whip out her phone and Facetime someone.  You would think this girl was making an international call on the 1960s transatlantic communications cable.  She was being so loud and animated. We are talking enunciating every word loudly and with jazz hands.  If I had not been more than halfway through my meal I would have left. I was SO done. She finally ended the call when the poor kid behind the counter called a number.  This is where I nearly lost it.  The kid called not one but two different numbers. You mean to tell me y’all waltzed in glued at the hip and dry humping each other in the middle of In and Out Burger and y’all are going Dutch?  Never in my life have I wanted to be a crazy old lady so bad. Yet, at my current age, I know its socially unacceptable to ball out a complete stranger. However, I already know what I would say. It goes a little something like this.

Death stare while first looking at the girl.  Honey, you’ve been trying to climb on this boy’s head for the last 15 minutes. I know we are in a fast food restaurant where everything is cheap, however, you are not so don’t act like it. Furthermore, if you’re going to act like that in public at least make him buy you dinner, don’t go Dutch, you deserve some payment for that play.  Boy, you’re obviously swimming in pussy and good for you but treat her with respect even though she clearly has none for herself. Then pivot and slowly walk away like a boss. Old people rule.



2 thoughts on “Crazy Old Lady

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s