An Altercation

On Monday there was an altercation.

I was accompanying a friend and her two daughters on a little outing to get the girls some fake ID on Yonge Street,

and as it was going to take about 40 minutes to have the cards made we went up the street to the Ban Mi Boys to grab a sandwich. We sat at a table for four, where it appeared somebody had left a shopping bag, and began to eat our lunch.

A man, short, round and about 10 years older than me, told us that it was his table and he’d saved it by placing his bag there.

Aggressor: That’s my table you’re sitting at! I saved it with my bag! You have to leave!

My bossy, stubborn, German friend:

NO!!

Me: Well hold on, perhaps you’d like to pull up a chair and sit with us? That way we can all enjoy our lunch and perhaps learn something about one another, too?

Aggressor: NO!! THIS IS MY TABLE!! I WANT MY TABLE!!

My bossy, stubborn, German friend: No, that’s not the way that it works. You can’t save tables. How were we supposed to know that this bag was some sort of magic placeholder for you? We’re not leaving.

Aggressor: YOU HAVE TO LEAVE! IT’S MINE!!

Daughter #1: I’m scared.

Daughter #2: I’m scared, too. Maybe we should just leave?

Me: No, we’re not going to leave. (Looking at the aggressor firmly) Either you can sit with us or you can find another table, but we’re not getting up from our meal to give you our spot.

Daughter #1: You are so cool, Michael.

Me: It’s not about being cool, it’s about doing the right thing.

Aggressor: I WANT MY TABLE, I WANT MY TABLE, I WANT MY TABLE!!!

Me: It’s not your table.

My bossy, stubborn, German friend: Go fuck yourself, old man.

At this point the man, snarling, swatted at my tray, sending it flying into my chest and lap. I was covered in my own lunch. I stood up to my full height and opened my arms wide, “In my heart and mind I have your troubled soul in my full embrace,” and as he was looking at me all confused, I sprayed him with the little bottle of mace I keep on my keychain.