Edmonton has many things that it may count in its favour: a bounty of Stanley Cups; the status as Provincial capital; and an outstanding Fringe Festival. One thing that it also has, is one of the most bitter women I have ever had the pleasure of waiting in a breakfast line-up with. Unless they trade her to the Islanders.
After elbowing her way to the head of the line, using her baby's car seat (with baby inside) as a sort of battering ram, she began to swing the poor infant in what I'm sure she thought was a loving, matronly manner--meant, I'm sure, to silence the poor child's crying. Had she looked into the baby-carrier, she would have noticed that the child was crying because a buckle for the seat was banging the poor little bastard in the head. The more she swung to sooth the child, the more momentum the buckle had.
You are likely saying in your heads, "Now B--at most, this woman sounds a little pushy."
While sitting in the cue for a seat, I was given the opportunity to watch this particular bundle of "sugar and spice and all things nice" interact with her husband. This is where her true colours really shone. After a small misunderstanding with her husband regarding the arrival of "Grandpa", she made a comment that piqued both her husband, as well as my own, curiosity.
W- "We're lucky we don't own any firearms."
B- (inside my head) "Yeah, why?"
W- "Because I would shoot myself in the head right now."
B- (inside my head) "Oh wow."
I've been hungry and frustrated before, sure; but so far it hasn't led to irrational suicide threats.
The expression on the pre-teen daughter's face said exactly what we were all thinking: a slight frown, with saucer-wide eyes.
I considered offering space at my breakfast table for any members of their family wishing to claim refugee status from what was sure to be some pretty intense breakfast table chit chat.