I try not to let you get to me. When you rub up against me on the subway, I let it slide. Maybe I'll give you a passive aggressive dirty look once you have your back turned, but that's where it ends. When you walk into me on the sidewalk as if I have suddenly become invisible, I brush it off. When you block my path in an attempt to suck a monetary donation out of me, I pretend like I don't see you. But today, you overdid it with the stupidity and the inconsiderate attitude.
First, in the form of a twenty-something asshat, you darted out into heavy traffic despite a DON'T WALK sign, and then you had the nerve to yell, "Watch out, asshole!" when a cab almost hit you. Despite numerous people yelling back at you for being an idiot, you continued to waltz through the intersection in your 5-inch heels at a mind-numbingly slow pace. Sadly, I had my fingers crossed for some kind of hit-and-run that involved you and an angry driver, but I would've also settled for you tripping in your heels and eating the pavement. I was highly disappointed when neither happened.
Not to worry, you reared your ugly head numerous times on my trek through the UWS today, usually in the form of extremely large groups of people hogging the sidewalk. Is it now a custom to wander around with all of your aunts/uncles/cousins/neighbors/acquaintances in tow? Maybe I missed that memo, I'm not sure. I appreciate your commitment to family, I really do, but when I'm forced to walk in the street to get around you because you are fascinated by something shiny that caught your eye, my appreciation starts to dwindle. It truly is a mystery to me how the slowest people always walk in the biggest packs. And always, ALWAYS in the middle of the sidewalk, as if to say, "Hey you, behind me--slow down. You're moving through life too fast, and I'm here to police the sidewalk speed limit. So just take a chill pill, and enjoy being late to wherever you're headed, because I was raised to believe that I am the only person who exists in this world."
Later on, as I tried to enjoy a nice afternoon movie, you were there, two seats down from me, texting on your phone. I am touched that the first time this happened during the previews, you tried to shield the blinding light from your phone's screen, thus giving the impression that this would not be happening again. Was I foolish to think that you had taken your phone out to shut off the ringer? Yes. Yes I was. Because halfway through the movie, I began to think that the makers of The Devil's Double had some kind of advertising deal with AOL, due to the fact that I kept hearing that god forsaken "you've got mail!" sound byte over and over again, mixed in with your highly annoying ringtone. I seriously doubt that anyone as stupid as you is that popular. And although you kept ignoring your phone calls, eventually, why didn't you just turn your phone on vibrate? Were you trying to prove to the rest of us in the theater that you do indeed have friends, and that you're so popular that you can't even go to a show without being hounded by the hoards of people who are vying for your attention?
Just when I thought I was rid of you, you returned--not once, but twice--in the women's bathroom. First, while I was standing in line and already at my wit's end with a bladder that had reached its maximum capacity (that one is my own fault--I should know better than to order a soda that comes in a container the size of a beer keg), you appeared as a mother/daughter set that had some personal space issues, and an indifference to their own behavior. I'm not sure who started the myth that children are embraced by everyone, but someone needs to put a stop to it, because it's not true. If you chose to have children and you've subsequently brought them out into public, I applaud you. Congrats. But please don't make the assumption that I should in any way help you to babysit your children just because they are within arm's reach of me.
While I was trying to mind my own business waiting for a bathroom stall to open up, you felt it was entirely appropriate to push your pigtails into me, and to have your nose essentially shoved into my ass. Even as I turned around and gave you a look of Just what do you think you're doing?, you were undeterred. When it happened again and I gave your mother a look as if to say Handle your daughter, before I handle this situation in a way you will not like, both of you remained unaffected. I'm not sure who led you to believe that trying to mesh yourself with the people in front of you will get you through a line faster, but I regret to inform you that you have been seriously misled.
In this same bathroom line, I watched you emerge from a bathroom stall, careless to the requirement that you clean up after yourself, like the adult that you are (supposed to be). As another woman looked into the stall you had just occupied, disgusted at what you left behind, you shrugged her "attitude" off, and kept on moving. When she called you out in front of all the other women, you became annoyed with her tone, as if anyone should expect you to flush a toilet at some point in your life. Seriously, who does she think you are?
Finally, as I was heading out of the movie theater, just trying to get home with a drop of sanity left in me, you had one last surprise in store. You saw a spinning revolving door at the exit, and you hopped in to presumably push yourself around and out of the theater. However, once you aligned yourself with the door and walked approximately three steps, you were astonished that the door had stopped moving. Of course, you did not notice that I had also stopped pushing the door. Funny thing about revolving doors: if no one is pushing them, they don't move. As you began to shout at the door for breaking down while you were inside, you did not seem to realize that this door never was and never will be automatic. Granted, I enjoyed it immensely when I gave the door a little nudge and saw your face light up because, like magic, the door was working again! But in the end, all you did was sadden me, and wonder how all the intelligence seems to have been sucked out of the residents of Manhattan.
Tomorrow, I'm sure that we will be back on speaking terms. But today, I want nothing to do with you. You exhaust me.
