My marching band got screwed on a trip to New York. We were forced to go to crappy places like the MSNBC center. Most have us have been to the CNN center. The blue screen is only amazing when you're 11. After walking around Central Park for two hours, everyone was pretty fed up. Since no one else had the guts to say anything, I walked up to our tour guide to take matters into my own hands. i saw that he was speaking with chaperones, so I waited until they were done speaking.
Me: "Excuse me sir?"
That Fucker: "Can't you see adults are speaking? You're being rude."
Screw what I should have said. What I should have done was knee that little bastard in the groin. I waited for about four minutes before I spoke so I was sure the conversation had ended. Hell they weren't even looking at each other anymore.
After he finally realizes the conversation is over(two more minutes of silence have passed) he walks towards me and I guess I wasn't hiding my expression too well because he caugt on that I was pretty pissed off. The second hint would be me glaring at him while gnawing on a huge sweet tart.
That Fucker: "What is it you wanted to ask me?"
Me: "Well, everyone would like to walk around New York and not just see the same stuff we have in Georgia. There all kinds of shops and restaurants we've been driving by, and we would like to check them out."
That Fucker: "Well I think you guys need to sort out your priorities."
Me: "allrighty then"
What I should have said: "Don't you fucking tell me to sort out my priorities you fucker. This clarinet, trip, and these clothes were paid for by my job. The job I go to after school, and after I spend three hours on blacktop under the Georgia sun for band practice that I have never missed. Any free time I have is spent coming to school early so I can study for chemistry since my teacher is a condescending cunt who doesn't know how to explain diddly squat. If I didn't have my priorities sorted out my left eye would stop twitching."