In a flurry of pre-Halloween activity, the morons were out in force today.
Typically they clog up the roads and by-ways where I live, but they can be found scurrying around retail establishments, as well.
Now what I consider moronic behavior might differ somewhat from others, of course, but let me provide a typical example.
Depending on the amount of foot traffic involved, entering and exiting the double-glass doors featured at the entrance of many stores can be challenging, especially if you’ve got your hands full of
I always try to defer to that little old lady making her way outside, even if it’s not completely clear who really has the right of way. It’s the gentlemanly, proper thing to do, after all. I don’t really expect any sort of thank you, but a nod or a quick smile is appreciated.
What I don’t understand is when I’m met with complete and utter obliviousness when I clearly am helping one of these
morons folks out.
Of course, that happened today. Though I had the right of way and was holding some stuff, I duly made way for an older lady and graciously held the door for her.
In fact, I thought I whiffed the ever-so-faint sense of entitlement as she walked by.
If I cared any more about it, I might have gotten a tad mad. But I really didn’t, cause I see it so often.
Thus, she qualifies as a moron in my book. Maybe not a full-blown Class A Moron, but she’s not that far down the classification list.
Then we have the example of the driving morons.
You’ve seen them. They’re the ones cutting in and out of traffic, and even though you happen to be exceeding the speed limit by at least ten miles per hour, it’s not good enough for them. They tail-gate you, try to stare you down, and ultimately zip out and floor it around you for at least fifteen yards until they ride the next guy’s bumper.
It’s probably not the right or righteous thing to do, but if I see this kind of thing going on behind me via my rear view mirror, I will sometimes try to accelerate just enough to make it impossible for them to keep doing the same thing when they pull level with me.
The key to this particular strategy is to feign distraction or at least indifference. Glance out the side window. Adjust the radio.
Just never make eye contact and speed up ever so slightly so that it’s practically imperceptible.
Of course, this type of thing is only effective for a few seconds before the pace of the cars around me opens gaps and the guy can pick up again where he left off previously.
And it’s always guys. Never any women.
I’ll have to think about that some more, I suppose.
Anyway, this delaying tactic provides only momentary mental relief for me, and I have to be sure it doesn’t transition into some kind of road rage affair, for either him or me.
The fact of the matter is that I’m so worn out from commuting these days, I rarely get upset at anything or anyone anymore on the roads.
So as the moron guns his ride off into the horizon, I typically try to busy myself finding some tunes on the radio that are vaguely familiar. It’s a life.
Finally, I was confronted with a different type of entitled moronic behavior late this afternoon, but with an altogether different result.
As I approached a traffic light just a few blocks from my house, the light turned green and I had no need to brake. I simply continued to accelerate through the intersection, and not particularly fast, at that.
I could see on my right that someone in a Lexus SUV did not appear to be slowing down for their red light. This vehicle had all the earmarks of rolling through the light in order to make a right turn immediately in front of me.
Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened. Though I was already in the intersection, she (yes, it was a she) ran the light to make her turn.
But there was a difference with this moron.
She knew she had committed a moving violation sin, and she waved to me and made motions of apology.
What a bummer! I had already begun concocting a string of vitriol, which was to be accompanied by vigorous hand and arm gestures.
Her demeanor completely threw me off my intended diatribe course.
Instead, I simply shrugged my shoulders, nodded, and carried on my merry way.
If you’re going to be a moron, I suppose that’s the best way to carry it off.