“Hey, Johnny,” my aunt said on our final day at Bay lake Tower. “Would you pick that shit off the floor?”
“We’re already an hour behind schedule. Housekeeping is right outside our door. Let’s just go while there’s still daylight.”
“I don’t care. I said: Pick. It. Up.”
Remember in my previous post I said about “flight or fight.” Well, I can’t fee so congratulations I’m now frozen. Meanwhile, she’s losing a game of Mahjong Tiles on her iPhone.
“God, Johnny, what the FUCK is WRONG with you? God, you’re acting like a spoiled three-year-old.”
Second time she’s “asked” me that this week, and I can’t correct her this time either. My brain and body are both frozen. I literally couldn’t do this even if I wanted to and if I did I could pat myself on the head and say: “good job, you’ve just been cowed. You’re really good at being bullied.”
“You know what,” she said putting her game down and storming across the room glaring at me the entire me. “You know WHAT? THIS is what I SHOULD do instead…”
Something tells me this is not going to end well…
She kneels down, picks up the trash and, rather than throwing it away as I expected, she then turns around, points at me with her spare hand.
“Hey, Johnny, watch,” she growled with a twisted smile. “I SAID ‘WATCH.’ I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson about PISSING ME OFF!”
She rips my luggage open and smirks at me as she drops all the stuff from the floor into it.
“Problem SOLVED! See how EASY that was? Ten fucking seconds was all it took because YOU were TOO FUCKING LAZY to do it! Well, now, it’s YOUR problem, FUCKING ASSHOLE!”
Just a reminder, I’M the villian here. That’s what I get for choosing to have my brain freeze instead of being able to effortlessly volley back and forth like a “normal” person.
When I finally regained control, I tried to get her to admit that maybe – just maybe – her actions were wrong, hurtful or otherwise inappropriate. She didn’t recant – she doubled down:
“Awww, did that ‘hurt your feelings,’ Johnny? GOOD — That’s what you get for PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF!”
I never got an apology or admittance of wrong-doing, but a little bit of nettling got her to admit that she was acting out of “frustration.”
Let’s recap the lesson here: It’s okay to rip open someone else’s luggage and desecrate its contents because you’re “frustrated.” Perfectly, 100% A-OK, ask any judge… but somehow I suspect if the roles were reversed it would be called “bullying” at best and…um… okay, so I couldn’t find anything relevant on the first page of search results, but I’m sure it’s bad.
It doesn’t matter as my mom constantly likes to remind me my perception is so “twisted around that you can’t tell if someone is ‘angry’ or speaking calmly and rationally” so even if I did have a case, I have no “credibility.” In other words, people can say or do whatever the hell they want to me and have their alleged behaviors instantly dismissed because I’m “too stupid” to know what they were anyway.
Speaking of mom, she appeared out of hiding and announced that she was finally ready to take everything down to the car. But then on the way out the door, she asks me what I did to cause such a “ruckus” in the room.
“I didn’t anything.”
“Exactly,” my aunt said snidely. “He didn’t DO anything.”
“That was uncalled for,” I said.
“Why? You DIDN’T ‘DO’ anything.”
“Enough,” mom said. “Stop! God, what the hell has gotten into you? You’re acting like a spoiled THREE-YEAR-OLD! STOP IT! STOP IT, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
Keep in mind, this is a hallway at a popular Disney resort hotel, and she’s acting like I’M the one acting bratty here when all I did was defend myself. Why do I keep forgetting, only “normal” people can do that?
“Your yelling isn’t help-”
“I am NOT ‘yelling’ at you. God, why the hell do you have to think everyone is ‘yelling’ at you all the fucking time? I am talking in a perfectly CALM and REASONABLE MANNER! NOW STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!”
“You ARE, and it’s only giving me a bigger headache.”
“A ‘headache,’ YOU have a ‘headache,’” she said stopping, turning around and pointing her finger in my face threateningly. “I don’t HAVE to take you back to your apartment. You can take the god damned BUS back. Do you WANT to do that? Huh, DO you? Well, then KEEP IT UP or I WILL leave you the fuck here! Do you understand me?”
“See, Johnny, your ma don’t fuck around.”
So to recap, my aunt is making snide cutting remarks about me, but I’m the one getting yelled at AND now I have threats to contend with too. To be fair, the original plan was to drop me off at the T&TC so I could take the bus 50 back to SeaWorld…it wasn’t until we were about to leave the first time that she suggested driving me back to the condo.
In fact, at THIS point, it would have been a welcome break from the yelling and hostility. That’s when I decided to take my bag – sorry, the bag my aunt desecrated because she apparently can do whatever the fuck she wants to it – and bypass the elevator to take the stairs down four floors to the lobby (beating them by two full minutes).
When they emerged into the lobby, they were talking about how perfectly calm and reasonable they were being as if I wasn’t even there.
“Yeah,” mom said off-handedly as she opened the trunk of the rental car. “I even asked him if he ‘wanted to take the bus back,’ but he declined so I guess he can guide us back.”
“Hell, it’s HIS town…”
Are they fucking KIDDING me?
She didn’t ‘ask’ me anything – she THREATENED to have me “take the bus back” if I didn’t “STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!” Because yelling always calms a situation in which I’m trying desperately hard NOT to be angry and loud (as there were presumably guests in all the rooms we passed on the way to the elevators).
On the plus side, that meant the ordeal was almost over, which was good because my headache was only getting stronger…