…they tend not to know they’re attacking. I think that’s a function of their stupidity – they’re just too dumb to know they’re doing catastrophic damage all around them. Unfortunately for me, stupid people tend to attack me when I’m in a hurry. Maybe I just notice it more when I’m in a rush, or maybe I emit some kind of “I’m busy so please get in my way” pheromone.
Yesterday, as of 5:05pm, I had to go to BJ’s and buy paper towels (10 minutes each way), go to Kelly’s and pick up my dinner (thank you thank you thank you for the deliciousness!) and then head to the ambulance base (35 minute ride in traffic) … and arrive by 6:00pm. You can do the math, but I think you’ll conclude that I was probably in a pretty big hurry.
So I’m approaching BJ’s (a big wholesale club, kinda like Costco or Sam’s) on a 5-lane road. There are two lanes in each direction, and a center turn lane. About 20 yards from the driveway, I signal and pull into the center lane (“no man’s land”?) only to see a woman in a minivan launch out from another driveway at about 2-o’clock, gun it in the turn lane, and stare over her right shoulder waiting for a break in traffic. I had to dart back out into the traffic lane to avoid being snowplowed by the maniacal minivan mama!
After I do my shopping, and after my company debit card gets rejected because they can’t get my stupid PIN right, I finally head for the door. I can practically taste freedom, and then a couple pulls their shopping cart out in front of me. No, this is no ordinary couple…they had to have 600 pounds between them, no joke. Now I’m not trying to be mean to obese people or anything, but there are certain practical limitations to fatness that tend to collide with my idea of punctuality.
So I wait as these two waddle out past the lady who punches your receipt, past the rows of oversized wholesale-club-style shopping carts, only to – for lack of a better word – stall squarely in the middle of the sliding double doorway. My blood pressure rises another 10 points.
FP#1: “Did you get the cupcakes?”
FP#2: “No, I thought you put a box of them in the cart.”
FP#1: “No, you were supposed to pick them up!”
At this point, I lose it and shimmy myself and my 24 rolls of paper towels through the 18″ gap of remaining door frame air space. Not only are they morbidly obese, terminally stupid and obsessed with confections. No, apparently they also bicker a lot too. I bet these people watch TV and eat frosting out of the jar with their fingers.
I eventually dropped flaps and taxied into the ambulance base at 5:59pm. Rock on.