Draining the niceness tank
I feel I’ve used up my niceness quotient. Some days, I feel like I have a limited supply. On a recent Tuesday, I almost drained my tank. A few petty irritations and my repository of nice was diminishing. You never want your niceness to get to zero. You start snapping at the wrong people.
It started in the morning. I was walking downtown behind a fast-walking smoker. This woman was outpacing me just enough that I found myself continually in her nicotine cloud of death. I either had to run around her, cross the street or hang on the corner for a moment and let her get far in front of me. I chose to cross the street because I don’t like to linger, and I think a heavy-set guy running in business attire looks stupid, especially at 7:30 a.m.
Side note: I’m not some sort of anti-smoking Nazi. You can puff away like a chimney if that’s your deal. It’s your business. I just don’t want to be in your haze. When I’m safely out of wafting distance, I might even smile at you as I walk by.
At noon, I decided to dine al fresco. I found a nice little table in the sun, next to two suburban moms.
There’s a hitch. The one mom decided to tell the other mom about her baby’s diarrhea. She went into graphic detail on color and consistency. I had no idea people could talk about something so unpleasant for such a long time. For the record, I wasn’t eavesdropping. Trust me, I did not want to overhear any of that conversation while eating yellow curry. I had to get up and move.
Side note: I am not in favor of censorship, but please don’t talk about diarrhea, surgeries and/or vomit at lunch time. Your voice may carry.
At the end of that day, I got stuck in traffic on the West End Bridge. I don’t want to blame the Pirates, because they take enough guff, but it was a game day. I should have found an alternate route home. It was a long, long line of motionless cars.
I was almost to the bridge when someone decided to bypass all the traffic and cut in front of me. I was at the white line.
Side note: I will let you over when the line is dotted. As soon as it is a solid, white line, you’re on your own. It’s just rude to bypass the line and try to weasel in. I had to wait. So should you. Also, it’s a rule.
When I wouldn’t let him over, this dude rolled down his window and yelled out, “I hope you crash and die!” That seemed like a severe punishment, especially since I was actually obeying the law.
I wanted to yell back, “I hope you miss the first five minutes of Jeopardy,” or, “I hope your dinner is slightly cold.
“Unless you’re having gazpacho … then I hope it’s slightly warm.”
I’m just glad I had some nice left by the end of the day, because I didn’t yell back.