Yo you tryna chill?

So hubs and I took a late night trip to Walmart for yarn storage and snacks. It was a relatively uneventful trip until we got to the checkout. As we walked to the checkout a large sweaty man hustled past us. We both assumed he worked there and was unloading a truck since we saw pallets all around the store. We got in line and waited while the guy in front of us tried his card seventeen times. Large Sweaty Guy appeared at the cashiers end of the checkout waving money and cologne. He must have already been rung up before we got there because the cashier handed him a bag and he pulled out a fresh white tee and stripped off his sweaty one baring his less than ideal (I am being very generous here) sweaty body for all of Walmart to enjoy. Unfortunately (for all of us) he had to wait behind Seventeen Tries too. While he was waiting he turned his attention on the rest of us in line. He zeroed in on hubs and started asking questions.

How old you is? That your wife? How much you weigh? Yo you tryna chill? You wanna party?

Hubby answered his questions with the least amount of words possible in an attempt to dissuade him from continuing to talk to him. He never asked me anything or even spoke to me. Thank goodness for resting bitch face. Large Sweaty Guy holds up a key like its a trophy and asks if hubby wants to chill again as if him having a car key will change hubby's mind. (Hubby later informed me that it was a Mustang key.)

Seventeen Tries finally got their card to go through after a quick phone call and several minutes tapping things on his phone. Large Sweaty Guy shoved his cologne at the cashier again and threw some cash in her general direction. Which is such a disrespectful thing to do to a cashier. Finally she got him rung up and he asked my husband if he was tryna chill one more time. Hubby said no again and he walked off talking about how he has whatever you need.

After he walked away our cashier just looked at him, then looked at us, and said "Lord have mercy" while shaking head in a way that clearly said "people like him make us all look bad" and proceeded to ring us up. We get our purchases and head towards the door and lo and behold Large Sweaty Guy charges back into the store yelling about something. I, apparently as hubby told me later, said "Oh hell no" and picked up my pace to walking-away-from-catcallers-that-follow-you speed.

Outside the store he has left his fancy ass Mustang running directly in front of the store, at an angle that means no car can get by, drivers side door wide open, blasting some terrible hip hop music. We walk past the car and Large Sweaty Guy sees us look at it as he's coming back out of the store and starts asking us if we want to chill for the 478th time. Luckily, for us, he was distracted by a pretty girl and stopped asking us to chill while he yelled awful pick up lines after her. While he was trying to pick her up he stripped off his shorts, spritzed himself with cologne and put on the new shorts he bought.

Oh. South Florida. You never cease to amaze.