…and I’ll say it again. I hate hippies.
All I wanted was a sandwich. Just one sandwich. It was late Thursday night. I had just finished at the gym and wanted to hit up the Subway near Windward. As I was locking my bike up out front, I watched as three high school aged, baggy pants, shaggy haired, Birkenstock wearing, male hippies wandered into the shop ahead of me. I could tell as they passed me they were high. Damnit.
Inside, they proceeded to take their jolly-ass old time ordering. Whispering to the gentleman trying to get their food together, it took them a good ten minutes before the decided what they wanted. They couldn’t grasp the concept placing an order. Verbs eluded them. These three degenerate hippies-in-training talked amongst themselves in between each condiment and vegetable added to their sandwich. It was painful.
After ten minutes, finally, it came my turn to order. It was a very simple request: Italian BMT, 6-inch wheat roll. As I was sitting there, bullshitting with the man behind the counter, a full-grown hippie couple, both equipped with dreadlocks, walked into the shop. The female yells out, “We’re just getting fucking water!” No one prodded her, she just yelled. One of the employees orders her leave immediately. The woman yells something about “The Man” and reassures everyone in the Subway her and her man are just getting water. The guy behind the counter tells me the couple often comes in and steals soda, and once came in to order a sandwich. When it came time to pay, the guy said he had no money and tried to reach over the counter and steal the sandwich. When he failed at his attempt to de-sandwich the ‘Way, he yelled profanities and shit about the Subway employees being instruments of The Man. Yeh, b/c these two Hispanic guys working at eleven at night are single handedly holding these dirty, lazy ass mothers back from accomplishing all their life’s goals. GET A JOB YOU DIRTY HIPPIES!!
Anyway, as the three pre-pubescent retards are discussing if they are going to eat-in or take-out, a young gentleman (see asshole) comes in looking for the bathroom. He is instructed there is no public bathroom; read the sign in the window. The dude then asks, “Well what about the bathroom you use?” “That’s for employees only, and you don’t work here.” Well, apparently that wasn’t what this little stoner fuck wanted to hear. He proceeded to call both employees pussies and knock over a rack of chips on his way out. Not to be defiled, I watched one awesome move. One of the Subway guys picked up a whole avocado and whipped it as hard as he could at the back of the kid’s head. It missed him by a pin’s width and clipped the side of the door as the little bastard ran out.
The juvenile potheads finally paid for their food, making it my turn to pay for my sammy and get home for The Daily Show. I step up to the register, and my sandwich is gone. One of the little bastards took my sandwich. At this point I am so annoyed, I’m blatantly talking to the guy behind me about how much I hate stoner hippies and how stupid they are, knowing this little pricks can full on hear me. I inform the kid he took my sandwich, but he assures me that it was the one he watched get wrapped up. He can’t focus on the lettuce being put on his sandwich, but he swears on a bible he picked up the right sandwich. I ask him two more times to check and give me the sandwich back. I point out there are four sandwiches on their table and only three of them, so they must have my food. The give me what I presume is my sandwich back. The Subway guy apologizes and I tell him not to worry about it; it’s not his fault lazy prick-hippies come into his store and treat him like crap. I pay, and leave.
Upon arrival back at The Hotel, I open my sandwich only to realize the little stoner gave me the wrong sandwich. The damn kid was so high, he opened the wrapping of the sandwiches, checked them, and then still proceeded to give me the wrong sammy. How high do you have to be to forget what you ordered thirty seconds after you sat down?
Five dollars down the shitter. Now I wish I wasn’t taking a month off of drinking. If dealing with stupid hippies doesn’t make you want to pound a beer, I don’t know what does.
To close, I feel bad that member of Dave Matthews Band who died. My prayers go out to his friends, family, and band mates. But maybe, just maybe, they’ll stop making music now, and these stupid jam band following, flower dress wearing, pot smoking, white-man hating, drum circle bongo playing, crown made of vines wearing, “I will work for marijuana” sign holding HIPPIES will go away. Do something with your lives and stop complaining.
Welcome to paradise…
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