| 1:16 PM - mean-spirited folk
Current mood:  pissed off One of my mom's all-time favorite lyrics is from the Neil Young song "Old Man": "It doesn't mean that much to me/to mean that much to you." I remember being at the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young show with my parents in 2000 (the concert where the infamous incident occurred in which the long-haired fellow sitting in front of my dad said, "Oh, man! I dropped my doobie!") and watching my mom yell the line out as I'd heard her do many times before in the privacy of our den or minivan.
I've always liked the sentiment behind those words, especially when I'm in my usual frame of mind, thinking that I'll do anything and don't really feel self-conscious or silly. This, however, is not the same as saying that it doesn't mean much to me to mean that much to others. Quite the contrary: I want to be liked by everyone, to be my silly self and respected for it. Chances are, I wouldn't herald the belief that one should always act naturally if my acting natural resulted in being unliked. Luckily, people in my life tend to give me a warm reception, so I am free to continue being myself, as it were.
Many people close to me know how easily I get my feelings hurt. God forbid someone treat me rudely for no reason (or for what I perceive to be no reason), and god help us all if I hear that someone doesn't like me. Quite often, it's strangers' rudeness to me and one another that make me saddest.
Case in point: this morning, Miami International Airport, 6:15 AM. Janet speaks up when she should just shut up:
The check-in counter is jammed with people trying to get on the nonstop flight to Atlanta. The reservations department has overbooked the flight and there aren't enough seats for everyone. A charming duo work behind the counter, getting increasingly frustrated but maintaining speed as they try to get as many people as possible on board. A man approaches the desk, cutting in front of me and the other two people waiting for seat assignments. "Excuse me. Excuse me!"
"Yes sir, are you on this flight?"
"No, I'm on the 7:15."
"Well, okay. Hold on a second and let me help these people first."
Three minutes later, the last people are on board and I'm ready to chat with the gate agent to arrange for my travel voucher, which I'll receive in exchange for giving up my seat voluntarily. The man paces and clears his throat in a rather irritated manner; I perhaps do the wrong thing in glancing over at him and giving him a sympathetic smile. Another passenger walks up and asks first man if this is the gate for the 6:15 or the 7:15 flight.
First man: "Well, that's what I'm trying to find out, too, but these two little shits can't figure out what the hell they're doing."
My skin prickles at this, especially after I've seen how jovial the female attendant has been as she ushers people onto the flight, smiling genuinely in the tired and/or angry faces. I do The Wrong Thing. I speak up on behalf of the attendants. This anger surfaces in part due to the immense rudeness with which many folks treat anyone serving them--baristas, doormen, flight attendants, restaurant servers--they're all common targets when someone disrespectful feels he/she needs to claim superiority.
"Well, they've been really busy with this flight, and they're actually doing a pretty good job." Did I say this for my own benefit? For the workers'? So that the second man wouldn't think that the stewards were indeed "little shits"? I don't know, but I also know that I wasn't expecting the response.
First Man, sneering: "You shut up. Who in the hell asked you?"
[beat]
Janet, now angry and aghast: "I can't believe you just spoke to me like that."
First Man: "Well, I can talk to you a lot uglier than that if you don't mind your fucking business."
Tears welled up in my eyes. Why do people have to be so terribly mean to one another? Perhaps I never should have spoken up, but let's face it: I can be rather stubborn and indignant; I don't exactly let things slide.
Whenever things like this happen, I remember what Neetika told me after her grandfather died. She received the call at work that she needed to go home to Long Island immediately. On the train home, she did her usual thing, not going out of her way to be chatty and friendly, but giving an open smile to anyone who looked her way. I forget what exactly happened, but someone on the train said something mean, an outpouring of his impatience with the train or frustration with a fellow rider. Looking back on it, Neetika said something to the effect of, "I know people are having bad days, but how much energy does it take just to smile, or at least not be rude? I mean, I had just found out that my grandfather had died and was going home to be with my family, and I'm pretty sure that whatever the guy on the train had going on was probably not as bad--and I still treat people nicely!" (Neetu, sorry that I definitely misquoted you...)
The airport incident, in conjunction with the audacious, hateful way in which someone spoke to me the other night in Grand Cayman, cause me sadness but aren't going to get me too discouraged. Why is it ever worth getting worked up over things you have no control over? Why does a gate agent's not answering your question immediately give you reason to call her a little shit?
That's all. Can't come up with an appropriate conclusion...
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