Patience

I am often amazed by the depth of rage some people display in the face of minor inconveniences.

Yesterday, I was stuck in traffic. This is a normal, abet frustrating, daily occurrence in San Jose. But, by virtue of being a daily occurrence, it is if nothing else predictable, so I sat patiently in my car, listening to music and waiting for the trail of brake lights to indicate forward movement. Without warning, the driver’s door of the car in front of me flung open and a man jumped out, and even in the fading twilight, I could see his face was purple with rage. Some clearly defined chest-bumping-fist-flailing movements alerted me that this purple-faced fella wanted to release a volley of fist-a-cuffs upon the driver of the SUV beside me.

What. In. The. World.

Having arrived late to the scene via a side road, I could not fathom what previous infraction occurred that warranted this scene. As Purpleface approached the driver’s window, my attention returned to the car in front of me, where the woman previously in the passenger seat had jumped into the driver’s seat and was yelling imploringly in Spanish. By now, I had obviously rolled down my window as I wanted to be a good witness for the police in case of bloodshed, yet I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I can only imagine it was the Spanish equivalent of “WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THE CAR.” I also, sadly, could not see what was transpiring on the driver’s side of the SUV, but in short order, Mr. Purpleface returned to his vehicle. As he tried to return the driver’s seat, the woman promptly (and wisely, if you ask me) sent him around to the passenger side. At first, the passenger door was locked, to which my brain immediately rejoiced “YAS GIRL SLAY YOU TELL YOUR MAN THAT SHIT IS UNACCEPTABLE”. However, a moment later the door popped open and Purpleface got in, and as I followed them for another few moments, I watched with relative amusement at their ensuing frantic and bombastic hand gesticulations. I can only imagine the verbal lashing he was (deservingly) receiving.

Next, the airport.

Airports are not efficient places. No one is happy to be there. They all want to be somewhere else. Literally. I include the people who work there, as I am sure they would all pursue other career opportunities should they present themselves. Given this, my bar for humanity in airports is so low I have to dig for it. Yet, oh yet, some people still sneak under right on under it.

I’m in a clusterfuck of humanity at my gate and we have begun boarding zone 1. I am zone 5. I know this clusterfuck will continue for at least a half hour. I figure, everyone else in zone 5 understands this as well. That is how zone boarding works. Clusterfuckery followed by sitting in a confined space for hours. Cha.

The man behind me was enraged by this sequence of events. How did I know he was enraged? Constant verbal diaharia. This man had never heard of an internal monologue. “God, why can’t they get in a line”, “They aren’t listening” “God pay attention” “Can’t you read the number” “What is wrong with these people” “Jesus”. Huff, puff, headshake. Repeat. By the third repetition (zone 3), I moved farther back in the clusterfuck. I’d rather get on the plane six people later than spend another moment in his energetic orbit. By the time zone five began boarding, he matched Mr. Purpleface. When my turn came (a mere six passengers later) and I saw him (thankfully) a few rows in front of my assigned seat, he was still purple, huffing and shaking his head. I couldn’t help myself. In my chipperest kill-em-with-kindness voice, I said “Don’t worry, we are still well ahead of schedule I am sure we will take off on time.” He looked at me and said, in a patronizing tone “You think?” Despite my overwhelming desire to verbally castigate him over his horrible behavior, I simply replied, “I do” and went to my seat.

We took off at 12:40, a mere six minutes behind schedule, and by Latin American airport standards, a good half hour early.

To return to my original statement, I am amazed- no, I am flabbergasted- by this rage at little things. While Airport Purpleface was ranting on, all I could think of was the people in Florida, Texas, Louisiana and Montana literally losing everything they own. The earthquake in Mexico, the flooding in India, the whole North Korean regime. And you want to lose your Goddamn bananas over an inefficient boarding process? Really?

Have our modern conveniences only served to make us selfish assholes? Are we now treating each and every one of our minutes on earth as our own private commodities that simply cannot be wasted on something as useless as waiting….for anything? Alternatively, maybe we are all just sleep deprived and cannot self-regulate? Or are we all texting so much we forget how to comport ourselves like civilized humans IRL?

I don’t have the answers, and I am certainly guilty of this rage myself. The other day, I nearly lost my bananas on the pharmacist of the eighth pharmacy I visited that did not have the medicine I needed. I also laid on the horn for a good 20 seconds at the guy who nearly clipped my car as he tried to whiz around me as I backed out of my driveway. So there; I too am guilty of giving into The Rage.

Maybe just identifying the problem is half the battle towards solving the problem. I know I will certainly be more cognizant of my patience and subsequent anger in the future, because frankly, there is no time or place for these shenanigans. We are all fighting our own personal wars. All trying to get to the same place: home, happiness, a life well lived. Who am I to make someone else’s road that much harder over the slightest of inconvenience? I am so blessed, and I should carry my blessings like a badge of honor and a great responsibility. Those who have much should give much. And if nothing else, I never, ever want to be “that purplefaced girl” some random person blogs about.