A little peace and quiet

You know what gets me is that people will look at you
like you is the devil if you walk into a restaurant
and ask to be seated where there are no children.

Great googly moogly!

God forbid that while spending $20 on a piece of
overpriced "prime" rib (a real crime if you ask me) I
should like to be able to concentrate on enjoying the
damn thing rather than listening to the oh so sweet
sounds of a 2-year-old screeching like a spider monkey
being ripped apart by chimps at a Who concert.

I don't hate kids per se. There are all sorts of
places I go where I don't bitch too much about kids.
Any fast food hambuger joint I go to is off limits for
the kiddie complaint machine since I reckon that's
their turf or at least they've clearly been invited by
the management to come one by. Besides, I can eat that
stuff in my car or come in at times I know kids are
less likely to be there or I could just not go.

But if I enter what is presumably a fine dining
establishment to spend a bit of cash that I could put
toward books, bills or my retirement, then I better be
treated like reasonable fucking man when I ask to not
be seated next to kids. And even so, I'm usually
pretty reasonable. I just don't want to sit next to
screaming kids. They are all pretty disgusting, loud,
little looky-loos that I could do without. But just
give me a modicum of peace and quiet and I'm happy.

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