The Most Evil Thing I've Done (?)
I had really missed my fiancee, and I was looking forward to welcoming her home from a not too pleasant family visit. The Midway pedestrian traffic was frantic, but I was staked out in the perfect spot to see the arriving passengers; I was directly facing the walkway, and there was a large, round pillar behind me. I didn't have to worry about people trying to get around me, because the pillar parted people to either side like Moses did to the red sea. After waiting and leaning against the pillar for a bit, I thought I saw my girlfriend and stepped forward about three feet and set my backpack on the ground.
It wasn't my fiancee. I was about to lean against the pillar again when I felt this rush of air behind me and heard the sound of my back pack being kicked. Two cute little hispanic kids, a little boy and girl, were chasing each other around the pillar. The boy who kicked my bag, accidentally I presumed at this point, stopped running around the pillar long enough to apologize to me.
"It's okay kid," I said with a smile and moved my backpack forward a bit to give the kids more running clearance. They were just kids, they were adorable, and hell--he actually apologized! I only felt the mildest of annoyances at the thought that the moment I stepped forward for three seconds, suddenly my pillar of protection was gone. No biggie.
So there I stood, watching and waiting. I heard the giggles of the kids behind me, still playing the "running around the pillar game". Then, THWOCK!, my backpack was kicked again.
"Sorry," the little boy said, again.
"It's okay. . .Let me move it out of the way more."
No biggie. Kids make mistakes, often more than once.
By this point, it was taking my fiancee forever to arrive. The kids behind were getting louder and louder, and I was becoming slightly annoyed. Then, sure enough, THWOCK!, my backpack was kicked a third time. God damn it.
I gave the kid a puzzled, "what's up with that?" stare. He had an impish--not innocent--smile on his face, and I knew that this kid was screwing with me.
Through giggles, the kid said, "Sooorrrrrry!". He then stuck his toungue out at me and began running all over the place like a caffeinated spider monkey. What a little shit. Okay, I was angry now, but not as angry as when I looked over to my left and saw a hispanic man and woman smiling in my direction, and looking at the kids. The little girl ran up to the woman to ask her something, then ran away with her ritalain-deprived brother. Sigh. Of course, it was the parents, smiling at a situation that I would have gotten a slap on the ass for if my parents caught me kicking someones backpack around Midway airport.
Soon, the kids began running around the pillar again. I picked up my backpack immediately, and I swear that the boy laughed when I did. And then, I had an idea. Actually, the idea came about by the pressure in my stomach. I had eaten a huge bowl of chili for lunch earlier that day. . .Should I? I asked myself. You're damn right! I answered.
I timed it perfectly. Again, I was only about 3 feet in front of the pillar, and it took only minor adjustments to get my bum into place. The kid ran around the pillar one time--I calibrated the height. The kid ran around the pillar a second time. I changed the angle of my bum a bit to try to hit him head on. The kid ran around the pillar a second time. . .and I let it rip!
A direct hit! Right as the kid rounded the corner of the pillar like a little hispanic sunrise over a planet, my loud, ass-cheek shaking chili fart hit him right in the face. His mouth was open too.
It was carnage. "Ahhhh!" the little boy screamed, and fell to the ground. The little girl, who was directly behind him, tripped over him and went flying into her Mom and Dad. Then, it was a blizzard of Spanish words, flying everywhere: At the girl, at the boy and at me. The boy was crying now. The mother tried to comfort him, and I, myself, started giggling. All that was going through my mind was, how do you comfort a kid after some stranger just farted in his face? The father then screamed a flurry of spanish at me and actually waved his finger at me.
Why didn't the father wave his finger at his son when the little bastard was kicking my backpack? To try to explain this to him, I pointed at his son, held my packpack above my foot and kicked at it. This only enraged him further, because he only screamed louder and faster, and I heard a few swear words in his rant. I couldn't help myself. I started laughing. I thought the father was going to have a stroke and/or punch me, but he did neither. Holding the hands of the traumatized son and daughter, they began to walk away while still screaming the occassional Spanish at me.
Was this evil of me? Is it more evil that it made me laugh? Is it wrong that even now, days later, It still makes me feel good?
this is in or around Midway Airport