Get Your Glare On.

Not much of a stretch to say I almost got in a fist fight with a millenial Asian kid in the gym locker room today. True story.

I waltz into the change room, put my backpack in a locker then proceed to use the potty. Three minutes later, I’m going to my locker to get changed and I see this tall kid standing beside my locker with his gym bag blocking it. I notice he’s taking his pulse so I pick up the end of his black bag and proceed to move it over. By doing this, I was doing him a favor in not interrupting his pulse taking. The only other option would have been to stand there while he takes his time to vacate the area and that is not something I’m interested in doing.

After releasing his bag, I look over to see him glaring at me, as though to say how dare you touch my bleeping bag. We hold said gaze for like five or six seconds. He then looks down and mouths the f-word while shaking his head so I do my own glaring and I say is there a problem. Once again, my new found friend stares at me, almost through me, without word. At that point, my testosterone levels are climbing and I say my bag was here, pointing to my locker so what’s the problem. He takes out his ear bud so I say it again, what’s the problem. Still, more glaring. At this point, I’m pretty sure he wants to push or hit me but he is not. I grab my bag, slam the locker door, move 3 over and mumble something like there, are you happy.

And then he walks out. No fisticuffs for today. Got a great free pre-workout boost, however.

What was this guys deal? Was his personal belongings so precious that this scene had to ensue? And why did I feel like a kid in a candy store during the entire altercation? I may have answers.

First off, I don’t know what his deal was. Maybe he suffers from OCD or some neurotic disorder that gets his proverbial panties in a bunch if someone touches him or his belongings. Whatever it is though and I know you aren’t reading this, but chill the frick out.

Secondly, there are certain times in my life where I see this sort of beast arise in me and I like it. I am my own protector or some such shenanigans. Maybe I’m too pent up with life’s stresses that when a situation like this starts happening, I just wanna let it all out. I probably don’t because maybe he’d get the best of me but dangit it would be fun trying.

At first glance, I’m a big, tattooed, typically unsmiling kind of man. When you get to know me, you can see through that rough exterior quickly, as I am a gentle lamb inside. But push the right buttons and out comes an even bigger force than my large physical presence. And he doesn’t come out to play often at all so he likes stretching his legs.

That’s this scenario broken down as far as I’d like to go. Normality, normality, normality then bam… ok, this is happening. Life’s little wake ups. Hiccups. Strange but whatevs.

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