This Is Why I Try Not To Go Out In Public

I'm going to try to be fair about this. I do not want to make myself sound like I'm in the right and this person was in the wrong. If I do this right, I'll tell it accurately, and the result will present itself.

I was out in The People's Republic of Northern Virginia (NoVA) on Friday night, at one of my favorite bars in the DC Metropolitan Area - Galaxy Hut. It has a great atmosphere, great music, friendly staff, and usually a much nicer crowd than the standard NoVA Yuppie Fuckers you get at many other bars along the Orange Line.

But Friday night was a bit of a disappointment. It all happened when I went to use the restroom. In Galaxy Hut, there's a single for each gender. No one was in line. I checked the men's room, and it was locked. So I stood waiting. Then, a young woman did the same with the ladies' room, with the same result. So we found ourselves standing in line, just the two of us, and the following conversation ensued:

Her: Are you in line for the restroom?

Me: Yup.

Her: It's weird that the line is longer for the men's room than the ladies'. I've never seen that.

Me: Yeah, this bar is the one place I see that happen on a regular basis. I say, with just these two little restrooms, they shouldn't separate them by gender.

Her: You might have a point.

At this time, another girl walked up.

Other Girl: Is this the line for the bathroom?

Her & Me: Yup.

At this time, a guy came out of the bathroom and I went in, and then I heard the following conversation between Her and the Other Girl:

Other Girl: Are you with that guy?

Her: No, I was just standing here and he was talking all randomly at me, saying some crap about the bathroom line. I don't even know why he was talking to me.

Other Girl: That's weird.

Her: Yeah, he was weird.

What the jumping fuck is with that? What a skank. I think the objective analysis of this situation shows that I merely followed along with perfectly pleasant small talk, and she revealed herself to be a total asshole.

Honestly, I think this young woman fits into the Pantheon of Douchebaggery in a slightly more reprehensible position than the Bull Charge Guy. It's not like I was hitting on her. With that face, it's not like I even would hit on her. But there she was, talking shit about my completely ordinary small talk.

This cocky little suburbanite needs the back of someone's hand. I don't believe in smacking women around, but she does make me want to believe in smacking dipshits around.