Like today. I was out shopping, being in desperate need of new jeans. I elbowed my way through the racks, grabbed some jeans that looked decent, then went to try them on. I got inside the dressing room, and the first thing I saw was an eight or nine year old boy, running around, making all sorts of horrible noise, whining, bitching about how bored he was, and he wanted to go home, hurry up mom, all that kind of stuff. I assumed his mother was behind the door he kept beating on, so I picked an empty stall across the aisle and about four doors down..As I began trying on jeans and wishing that I had hips, the disagreeable little shit outside was pretty much pushed from my mind.

That is, until, as I had my shirt hiked up pretty high in order to see how a waist line looked on me, the little punk burst into the stall. There was no way a kid his age could have mistaken my location for his mothers location. That alone was enough to irritate me. When he began laughing and pointing, saying rather loudly, in Spanish, that I was extremely white...well, that was about all I could take. I started yelling right back at him in Spanish. Now, my Spanish is not good. In fact, the only real vocabulary I have maintained contains rather inane statements and extreme vulgarity. This kid got earfuls of the vulgar portion. I'm pretty sure the sentences were pretty much incoherent thins, just one cuss word right after the other. All the same, it did the trick. He backed away very quickly, and I slammed the door behind him.