Christmas Rage

(December 23, 2005)

As we all know, beginning in late November, and lasting through December, the air quality diminishes or something and everyone falls victim to the airborne asshole virus that goes around ever year. Look, we're all guilty. Doesn't really matter whether you're an asshole because you think your family is the only one that matters and you feel like you have to abandon common decency in the quest for the perfect pieces of plastic crap to give your loved ones or, like me, you hate other people already and you get really tense around all the psychotic consumers. Add that anxiety to a mild claustrophobia and you've got a whole bundle of walking neuroses just waiting to be medicated. But that's another story.

My story really begins with my good friend Amanda's Christmas rage. Now, pay attention if you haven't heard this yet. Last week, Amanda was Christmas shopping and some yo dude at a mall kiosk approached her, rather creatively, with "Can I ask you a question?" Amanda, being much nicer than me, chose not to ignore him and responded politely and honestly with something like "I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry," and then attempted to continue about her busy day. But then kiosk dude says "Where are you going?" And then Amanda turned around and said, "Like it's any of your fucking business."

Ok. Keep that in mind. Today I went shopping with my friend, Jaclyn. For those of you who don't know, Jaclyn waits tables at the Dayton country club. Obviously, she has a pretty high tolerance for bullshit. The one thing she really hates is when parents expect everyone else to work around them just because they have kids. This, of course, can happen in two different ways:

1. Ignoring the children in public and assuming others will provide care, or
2. Ignoring everyone but the children and assuming everyone will accommodate the whole family as it destroys, disrupts, congests, or otherwise creates public disturbance.

Of course, we all know this isn't country club-exclusive behavior. Jaclyn told me a story in the vein of #2, which actually led back to the country club correlation, but the point is this: Something has to be done. So from now on, I'm making it my personal crusade to change lives one at a time by providing morons with gentle reminders to act like polite humans.

Seriously, I've made it a New Year's resolution. So, for example, next time I see a family abusing their server by making absurd demands that might give a serf pause, or letting their children leave piles of food, trash, or bodily waste on the table, I'm going to calmly walk over while the server is gone and say something like, "You're being very rude to your server. When he/she comes back, you need to apologize. And tip."

I could not be more serious about this. I vowed today to call out unnecessary public rudeness. I mean really outrageous things. Obviously people don't know they're doing it. And I figure the worst that can happen is I've given these people a story to tell for the next week. Even if they don't apologize, we're no worse off than when we started, right? I think of it as a Pascal's wager with manners.

I really shouldn't have been surprised because it is December, but no sooner did I make that resolution than I was forced to follow through. Picture the scene: 6:30 p.m. A crowded parking lot at an outdoor mall. The garage is full. In your immediate field of vision you can see 10 other cars trolling for spaces with no success. You've driven for several minutes.

But back to me and Jaclyn -- then, I saw people heading to a car RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR! THEY'RE LEAVING! So I asked Jaclyn, "Should I go stand in the spot?" Because we saw it first, but we couldn't back up because there were cars behind us. Jaclyn hesitated, but I was like, "I'm doing it." And I did. Jaclyn made a small circle to get back to the spot -- call it a victory lap -- and I chatted with the leavers before taking my position in the middle of the space.

Ok, I know this is kind of dickish. But this is a capitalist society and it's three days before Christmas so it's every shopper for him or her self. Plus, given the layout of the lot and the fact that there weren't cars coming from the other direction, we had to have seen it first. Honestly. So I'm standing in the spot and Jaclyn's approaching from my right. I see her glee through the windshield, and just as she's about to park, some guy in a Lexus cuts her off, whips in from my left and stops two feet from me.

Oh no he didn't.

Yes. He did. Now, I think my inspiration for this next action stems from a combination of Amanda's aspirational act of defiance in the face of mall heckling, and my new resolution but regardless, now we're in a standoff.

At first I don't say anything. I merely raise my arms meaningfully, offer a questioning glare, and shake my head no. And he doesn't do anything either. We stare at each other. Tumbleweed rolls by. I hear saloon doors creaking in the sub-zero wind. I know this may be the end of my kneecaps and possibly my life, but I'm not moving. This is our spot.

Then, he guns it and halts abruptly, now a mere foot away from me. I have to admit, I jumped. Just a little. His wife rolls down her window and she's saying something, but she's not talking to me.

I think it was around this time that Jaclyn's window also came down and she started yelling, "Give it up! We were obviously here first!" Meanwhile I'd assumed my first posture, but with an edge of aggression. I look to my left; cars are beginning to pile up, maybe to watch, maybe just because they couldn't get around us. I look to my right and I see my oldest friend hanging out of her window, yelling in my defense, and at this moment, I know.

I know we've come too far.

So I lean forward. One foot from the nose of the car. I stare into the windshield and yell, "NO, NO, NO! YOU'RE BEING VERY RUDE!" I yelled a few other things, but Jaclyn was yelling too and this is when the adrenaline kicked in, so it's all a blur until I deliver the fatal blow:

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"

And then he drove away.

Lexus: 0
Honda: 1

Everyone won. We got our rightful parking spot. Other drivers had a good story to tell. Lexus guy got served some ice cold manners -- tough love. Merry Christmas to all.

Still crusading for common courtesy,
Sarah