I talk like a bitch in private, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t intentionally go around pissing people off. It’s not my nature. I don’t start conflict purposefully. OK, I do flip people off and yell out my window at line cutters on Harrison, but that’s only because I know I can out-speed them if it comes right down to it. I’ve never been in a fight (almost once – thanks Marie!) I’m definitely no peacemaker, but I don’t see a point in starting shit, either.
So I was pretty annoyed when a stranger at the airport tried to start shit with me. There were these three “tweens” I guess they’re called now – girls somewhere between the ages of 10-15. They were kicking and pinching each other, one flailing into me. On the terminal, they were screeching and screaming. I have low tolerance for the high octaves, so I stated to my friend Tracey, “tell me we weren’t like that at that age.”
The middle-aged woman in front of me whips around and said, “are you talking about those girls back there?” as if it wasn’t already completely obvious. I’m talking about the ones that make me wish I was deaf. And that’s saying a lot considering how much I love listening to Rihanna’s “Take a Bow.” I gave her my signature, isn’t it obvious, stupid? look and said, “of course.”
“Those are my kids, thanks a lot,” she snipped, bitchiness oozing from her every pore. Then she whipped back around to staring at the head in front of her as if nothing had happened. Obviously she couldn’t stand them either since she was nowhere near them in line. And when we found our seats on the plane, I noticed she sat near the front, and they sat all the way in the back. And suddenly, I no longer felt annoyed by the girls – after all, they’re just kids. I felt bad for them: that they had to live with someone who didn’t care enough for them to discipline them or even be in their presence. I understood why they were acting out. And all of a sudden, genetics seemed like the most cruel joke.