OK, there is something that really pisses me off. It's going to be that kind of blog today. A rant for the sole purpose of getting it out, getting it said in an attempt at getting it out of my head.
It happened yesterday. It has happened a lot, but when it happened yesterday it stuck in my craw. (I don't know what a craw is, I don't know why things stick there, but in this case, I know for certain, it was, indeed, stuck in my craw.)
We went to the movies yesterday. The theatre we went to is one of those huge ones built on acres and acres of land. It plays somewhere near 617 films at a time. It's hallways are long vast corridors. We parked in the disabled parking area and even from there it was a long walk to the front door. The disabled door, the one that opens when you push the button with the wheelchair symbol was at the furthest point from the disabled bays. You have to walk by, 11 other doors to get to that door.
No matter we are used to design that seems to follow no design. Anyways, we get to the door and Joe pushes the button and the door slowly, slowly opens. I'm holding hard onto my wheels because I'm on a slope and to let go is to roll backwards. Once the twelfh door opens, Joe is back behind me and we attempt to get over the metal bump on the bottow. It requries some work. All this is made more frantic by a guy who lines up behind us to go through the door.
Not just behind us, but behind us and impatient.
Not just impatient, but rolling his eyes and looking at this watch impatient.
Not just looking at this watch but making little impatient noises to let us know he is here and we are in the way.
Understand there are 11 other doors. No line up at eleven other doors. He could step only one foot to the side and go into the door beside us. But no, he wants to make some kind of comment about us taking time getting through this frigging door. Joe and I manage to get over that sill and are headed to the door in front. It too has a button, Joe pushes it. I'm sweating now while the door slowly opens. He's still behind us, he's still acting like we are going to make him late for the movie. Words form in my mind, spill out of my ears, but no way am I going to engage him, talk to him. Screw him. There are 11 other doors. He's doing this on purpose. I'm not going to say anything. We get through the door, he gets in behind us and then rushes past, like he's got a very important appointment.
I hate feeling like I'm in the way, an obstacle in other's path. I hate being the easy victim of my own insecurities. I hate how strangers being assholes can affect my spirit ... my enjoyment of an event.
Then there he was, walking beside a woman, "Anyone ever tell you that you are a jerk?" she said, I don't know about what.
"No but I thought it," I muttered outside her hearing.
And felt immediately better.