My life is forever changed, for I have now been gifted the title “Meth B**ch” by a fierce and uncombed woman at a small local park. Now this is somewhat strange since not only have I never actually seen authentic meth, and would not recognize it if I did happen upon the substance, but according to the hunky hubby I don’t even know the right demographic in which to place the average meth enthusiast.
ME–“Rich people use meth right, she must have thought I was rich.”
The Hunky Hubby–“Choke, cough, hide smile. No, that’s cocaine. Meth is totally white trash, you can make the stuff out of Thera-Flu in your basement.”
Sigh, there goes my theory about looking stylish and sophisticated in my jeans and sweater herding my flock of bouncing little boys through the park. Ah well. Back to the story. I had stopped to play at a small park near the Wenatchee post office, it’s just a little bit ghetto and no one speaks English but they have bran new toys and are located near some good friends of ours.
So the boys played for almost an hour and I met a nice Hispanic grandma and everything was going well until I went to buckle the boys into our car. I was rushing them along, past an interesting bird’s nest when Sweet Boy #2 tripped over my foot and got all scraped up on the sidewalk. He was crying and I was buckling Sweet Boy #3 and trying to hold him simultaneously and this somewhat mussed woman (who spoke English and was not Hispanic) was standing on the corner talking loudly into her cell. Well I eventually got all the tears dried and the car-seats buckled and had just slipped into the driver’s seat when she finished her call and angled across the street toward our car.
I’m not sure what caused my reaction, but as she was coming towards us I reached out and hit the “lock” button for our doors. She heard them click shut and this action apparently enraged her. She shook her fist at me through the windshield: “Meth B**ch! I know what you’re doing here, sitting and waiting for meth!” How strange. I smiled, reversed the car, and sped off to McDonald’s. Where at least there would be witnesses if I were to be accosted.
So now I have a dilemma. I love this park. It has bran new toys and next year after the boys and I begin our Spanish lessons we would be able to experiment with our budding linguistic skills. But apparently there are more unnerving things than the slouchy teenage guys playing soccer. Was the uncombed woman simply insane…or is my friendly little park a virtual “Meth Emporium”…or perhaps a little of both. So what do you think? Do I continue to enjoy the wonders of the meth park, or tuck my tail and run for the hills. What to do, what to do?