"I'd Like That Without Mushrooms and Bullshit, Please."

The first morning in Taos, we headed down to the plaza to have a quick look around and grab some breakfast. After being scowled at by an angry native of the region, who was working at a souvenir shop, we apparently looked just like the people who suppressed and persecuted her ancestors in the past, we headed to breakfast where we were scowled at by an equally angry stout woman who had hair shorter than the hair on my ass, which isn't very long in case you were wondering.

She looked as though she could've picked me up and thrown me right out the window of the second story that we were on. I'm certain that she could throw me at least 30 feet in the air. I wouldn't go down without a fight though. I'd reach down her pants if I had to and grab a fist full of fur and drag her right out the window with me. And if she had gone Brazilian on me (no hair down there, which I highly doubt - I don't think that she had probably groomed down there since the 70's - and even then it was questionable.), then I would've grabbed some of her piercings. And if she didn't have any piercings to grab? I would've grabbed a chunk of the hair that was growing on her upper lip.

Look, if you're working in a business where you have to wait on people, you know...customer relations? Yeah, that one, if you're working in this business, which I did for many years, if you don't like it, quit. Get out. You don't want to be there and trust me, the customer doesn't want you there either. And if you can't? Fake it. Just knock it the fuck off (the bad attitude) and suck it up. I used to have to wipe people's asses and simultaneously had to make them feel as good as I could about shitting the bed. So, bringing me some food and drink, or selling me some bullshit magnet for the fridge really isn't that big of a deal, is it? Because if it is, you're a fucking whinny baby and you need to get over yourself.

So, this angry Napoleonic/Neanderthal woman of a waitress who looked as though she had just eaten a shit sandwich, asked us what we wanted to drink. We wanted waters to start, which I don't find particularly out of the ordinary. However, this made her even more pissed than she already was. When people are like this to me, I usually end up getting in their faces. I can't help it. I'm a nice person and I tip well, but if you're a fucker, I'm going to find a way to tell you so. I began glaring at her when she'd come up to the table, you know Kristin, giving her my best Donna Martin face. I tried being nice, but she must have been dealing with the after-taste of the shit-anwich, because her lips were still pursed. Or maybe she had just tasted a sour-puss.

We asked her if they were still serving breakfast. She became emboldened with her pending response. She was actually getting excited to tell us that they don't SERVE breakfast. "WE DON'T SERVE BREAKFAST." She glowed through her facial hair for an instant.

So, my Mom responded, "Oh...well...in that case, I'll have the BREAKFAST Burrito."

I followed, "Yes, I'll have the BREAKFAST Burrito as well please." You stupid fucking whore. My Dad and Will ordered the same. She continued to eat shit. It was almost noon and by the looks of the people that we had encountered so far, we all needed a drink. 4 Bloody Mary's coming up. As she walked away, my mother said, "A smile wouldn't be so bad either..."

When Lucifet the Troll returned with our drinks, she was ALL smiles. Meaning that she had most likely wiped her ass on all the glasses, or pissed in them, or something equally awful. She was so pleasant after my Mother said that, I just had a sinking feeling that she sabotaged either our drinks or our food, or both.

Our Bloody Mary's took the edge off and the Breakfast burritos were outstanding. Her spit must have just made everything taste all the better. She really had become pleasant, whether she really had done anything to our food or not, I obviously don't know, but it had become an enjoyable meal because she wasn't acting like a rude jackass...And the Bloody Mary's were kicking in.

She didn't throw me out any windows and I didn't have to grab any piercings or hair. And that's a good thing - to not have breakfast erupt into combat. I don't know what happened to her right before she came to our table all bitchy. Or what may have happened to her the week, the month, or years before we happened on one another. And I don't know what happened to that woman in the souvenir shop who was rude either. But when do we acknowledge the past, whether it be personal or cultural or societal, then let it go? When do we embrace right now, the moment and make the most out of what is happening right in front of us? When are we going to be fully present in the present? Because the past is gone, done and there's nothing we can do about it. And the future is a big maybe, more a hope than anything. But right now, although it's fleeting, is laid out in front of us, silently waiting to be embraced, before it becomes yesterday.

So, I'd like to rephrase my orders at the souvenir shop and restaurant please...I'd like those two stupid magnets and some of that incense that smells like burnt babies. I'd like a glass of water, a Bloody Mary and a Breakfast Burrito please, hold the ass wipige, spit and piss. And for dessert, I'd like a little bit of kindness, maybe even with a smile on top. Even if it's imitation, that's cool with me. Thanks.