2005-08-02
My Neighbours Are Fantasy Morons: One Can Only Hope They Suffer, Greatly, From Dandruff.
why is it that neighbours who play their music too loud also generally play the same song over and over again? and also generally have taste in music that is only called taste because taste means that that is what they like?
***
Today, I am ashamed to admit two things from my metro ride home.
It was rush hour, and thus very crowded. Crammed into the car with me, and standing directly in front of me were two Muslim men. Despite my best and most rational intentions, I was imagining what it would be like to be so close to the source of a bomb. I was thinking to myself, but why would anyone bomb a city in Canada?, and I answered myself, because Canada is the world's civilian. Then as we neared a stop, one of the men reached suddenly for a black package hanging from his hip. It was definitely a cell phone of sorts. He was definitely simply turning it off. I, nonetheless, had a moment of fear.
Goddam the media. Goddam me.
But I think, if I'm a sucker like that, and I know better - so much better! - then can I blame people like the bus driver in New York who called the bomb squad on 4 British Muslim men who were on his bus?
Yes. I can blame him. That is despicable ignorance, racial profiling, etc. But, I can understand that people are afraid and panicky and uptight because there are people bombing people -- strangers and civilians -- on public transit, and in public places. I don't like it. And I don't think it's right or really justifiable, but I can understand it.
The second thing I did, that I feel less bad about, is this: When it is rush hour and the metro is crowded, people who are waiting to get on the train must wait for everyone who wants off of the train, to get off. This is called civility. Usually, this principle works fairly well, though there are always the misguided few who think that the doors will close in the middle of the exiting and that they will be stranded, forever, on the platform, never getting to their very very very important destination and that instead all of the people who wanted to get off the train will reach that destination, and get all the candy. [The music is loud and annoying. Do I bang on the wall? I hate wallbangers! Maybe they're getting romantic?]
Or, for example like today, there are those who are already on the train but feel the need to cut in front of the leaving line to get a better seat before the oncoming zombies flood the car, leaving them in the less good seat they are already in -- this, of course, causing those jumpy panickers on the platform to think, It's time! It's time! Go Go Go!!. In front of me, the woman did cut. Somewhat annoyed, I let her pass, and then let the usual irritating person in from the platform. But then, I was faced with a wall of boarding passengers, hovering and giggling and bumbling their way on to the car, without so much as an Oh, pardon me, excuse me, to me or the other people trying to get off. My general metro extra-politeness held for about three of them, as I continued to try to exit but was cut off every time. Finally, with a hissed, Jesus Christ!, I -- yes mild-mannered yours truly -- shoved aside a gang of grannies.
It was disgusting. I violently pushed my way through all of them, and I felt their gross soft middle agedness all over my arms. They weren't really grannies, mostly, but they were smaller than me. And I did shove them rudely. Fucking shit.
pansycline at 10:16 p.m.