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.
