Battle Axes

I scolded this old lady at the taqueria the other day. She cut me in line. I couldn't help it. I was standing in line and she was having difficulty deciphering who was waiting for their food and who was in the line. She asked almost every person around the counter including me if we were in line. The window opened for me to take my order and this old battle axe snakes me.  I hadn't eaten all day so I felt justified in my reaction.

"Lady, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She turned to me and looked up very sheepishly and blank saying, "I asked if you were in line."

"And if you recall my answer was yes, I am in line, now get behind me and wait your turn."

I was so irritated that I forgot what I wanted to eat. The guy at the register kept asking me all these questions and I couldn't come up with the answers.

"Regular or super burrito, avocado, sour cream..."

As I turned around to sit down I noticed that everyone was staring at me like a crazy person and it kind of hit me.

Am I a prick? I mean I know I'm not a prick in my personal life. I'm giving and thoughtful. I sacrifice for others.  But how is it that we should judge ourselves? In our personal lives solely? I mean if I'm an asshole at the taqueria on a Friday afternoon in front of a bunch of strangers, does that seal me up? A tremendous feeling of guilt came over me right then.  It was like a freighter dropping cargo on my back.  My food became flavorless, my mouth parched with disgust.  I used to be the nice guy and now I'm chopping old ladies heads off because she cuts me in line, delaying my food by all of one minute. What do i learn from this;

Patience is a virtue.

The other day I was waiting behind an old Filipino lady who was getting a train ticket.  She couldn't figure out how to work the add machine.  I was getting very flustered and rolling my eyes, sighing, heaving deep and loud, in and out, in and out.  But I caught it.  I realized how ridiculous it was to be so anxious about something so trivial.  So I helped her.  I asked her where she was going, added the right amount and away she went saying "thanksyous, thanksyous." I made my ticket, and followed after, walking down the escalator feeling pride in my control. Getting to the bottom I saw the old lady rushing toward the train I was trying to catch.  She hobbled her old bones right through the door as I sprinted up to see them close in my face, her waving her arthritic hands with glee and delight, a snaggletoothed smile streaking across her face. 

"Fuck me," I said. If only I hadn't helped her I would've made the train. But where's the fire

Patience is a virtue.