How impotence influences the social behavior of overly-educated homo sapiens

Tonight I waited on a table of six physics professors. Much to my sincere delight this table included one man who gave his argyle sweater a good name by politely drinking three glasses of Black Label on the rocks, another who ate his burger rare and drank his coffee black (respectable), and three other nondescript human beings who babbled on about the department's publishing record. They belong on another blog. This blog is about people like the sixth man at the table, who talked over everyone in a high pitched voice, asked for bread when I first came over to the table with waters, and ordered an appetizer for an entree because it was "half the price". 

When I brought the food he asked for a drink. He did not order the glass of wine he wanted (pinot grigio) because it was eight dollars, but settled for a $7.50 chardonnay ("the driest one you have") (dumbass).  I diligently trotted back to the side station and put in the order, emerging only to find him on his feet, hovering near the bar. This is the conversation that ensued. 

Douche: "I'd like my wine please." 

Me: "Yes, I am just waiting for the bartender to pour it."

Douche: "But I want my wine with my MEAL."

Me: "Yes -"

Douche: "I have my mussels now, so I'd like my wine now."

I know you have your mussels because I was putting them in front of you when you told me order you cheap pathetic ignorant fuck. I hope your PhD in physics will explain the trajectory of this "dry chardonnay" when I throw it in your face. 

As I am writing this, I am slowly realizing that maybe it's not that big of a deal. So what, he was impatient and stupid, it's no reason to entertain homicide as a feasible option. But then again, why question rage? It feels so nice.