While I could expatiate endlessly upon the grand theme of My Stupidity, in the interest of variety I shall introduce a secondary theme: My Meanness. I'm not proud of it, but I sometimes enjoy it. I can be a colossal jerk.
Of course, there are mitigating factors. Remind me to tell some you good stories illustrating them. Factors such as: people just aren't nice to each other anymore. And: some people are so mean that, unless you have it in you to be a little mean back, they'll crush you. And: some people are just so stupid that they're asking for it. Which, considering my personal stupidity quotient (S.Q.), might explain why some people have been so mean to me. Aaargh! It's a vicious cycle!
Enough philosophy. Here's the dirt.
I was "out on the town" with some college buddies. The town was either Minneapolis or St. Paul, or some mysterious Neverland in between, though judging from the pain in our eyes it must have been close to the Frederick R. Weisman Art Museum (pictured). We had been at the U to hear a performance by their opera workshop, in which one of our friends was performing. We stopped at an all-night restaurant, which was pretty busy, and ordered a late dinner.
Our waiter was a young guy, probably a student at the U. He seemed a bit nervous. First he gave us some other table's food, then he dropped an enormous amount of our dinner on the floor, then it turned out he had gotten part of our order wrong, and on and on. For once in my life I was eager and determined to pay the tab, using my credit card. On the slip, where it said "Tip:___," I gleefully wrote: "Look for another line of work."
Which reminds me that "I justly deserve [God's] present and eternal punishment..."