Wow, people are really annoying sometimes. I know, I know, it's hard to believe I could say such a thing, since I usually tell such pleasant stories of the patience I have for, and delight I derive from, my fellow man.
Thursday, though, I was ready to be medicated.
First, I had to run to the supermarket at one point during the day. And this particular peeve happens to me a lot there: some numb nuts is in front of me, and the cashier was ringing up her items, a kid is bagging them, you see the running total on the little screen during the process, and then, of course, the cashier gives the final bill – and, I swear, this genius seemed literally startled that she was being asked for money, and began suddenly rummaging desperately through her pocketbook.
Huh? She didn't realize they were going to be charging for the food today? She wasn't aware that at the end of the checkout process, Food Emporium asks for payment? And, of course, it wasn't even handy. She's looking through multiple compartments in a giant goddamn bag for what seemed like three minutes. I don't know, apparently she puts it in a different place every time?
I have my twenty dollar bill in hand, boom, ready to go every time when they ring up that total. The person behind me in line is very lucky, let me tell you.
And if this one had paid with a credit card, I think I might just have poured the carton of O.J. I was buying right over her empty head. I may have mentioned it on this blog before, but that is really one of the more frustrating things, standing behind someone who insists on paying for a $4.62 bill with their MasterCard. Oy.
But the day of annoyance continued into the evening.
I had got invited to a screening. Now, I love seeing a flick on the big screen, and, when it's free, it's even better. This was at the Ziegfeld, which is, I think, the biggest (non-Imax) screen in Manhattan, so it's a good one. But Jesus H. Christ – no exaggeration now, for two solid hours, I heard coughs and wheezes and candy wrappers rustling and popcorn bags crumpling.
Who are these people? Don't they realize they are not sitting in their home, and maybe, just maybe, should at least TRY to have some consideration for their fellow audience members? Is this too much to ask? I'm beseeching you, I'm begging you – please, please, please don't go to a theater if you have a hacking cough.
These are just some of the many reasons I think I like animals better. They're so much less annoying than humanity.
The only saving grace was the movie was VERY loud. It was “Flags of Our Fathers,” the new Clint Eastwood-directed film about the guys who raised the
flag at Iwo Jima, and how they were exploited by the government to sell Savings Bonds after that iconic AP photo became a sensation, and the way their lives sort of fell apart after the war.
I guess I would recommend it, but I will warn it is pretty gory. But if you're into history, it could be interesting for you.
And to protect the innocent, I won't say who I went with, because, at one point in the movie, I gave her a little pop quiz, asking if she knew who the president was in a scene when the soldiers were brought to the Oval Office (to meet someone clearly portraying Truman) - after an earlier moment, no less, when it was announced that FDR had died – and, well, er, let's just say she might not be ready for a Jeopardy Tournament of Champions appearance.
In her defense, Ms. X claimed she wasn't good at remembering the order of the presidents.
You know, that might actually work if you were asked who came after, say, Van Buren, but I don't really know if you can get away with it for who came after Roosevelt.
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