Am I becoming my father?
I know this is a very strange question coming from someone who has never had a father, but I do remember a few things about my biological father: one of them being a penchant for being confrontational and belligerent with total strangers in public venues. Almost as a reflex. When going out in public, some people put on a nice hat or fancy gloves... wait--why do I think I live prior to 1960?
Rephrasing, when going out in public, some people put on their sunglasses. Or perfume or cologne. My dad always put on his fightin' pants, which kept him ready at literally a second's notice to react combatively to any number of public encounters. Always super classy, my dad.
So getting out of class tonight, I waited on the bench at my usual bus stop waiting for my usual bus to come by at its usual time.
Sure enough, Valley Metro's Route 66 turned the corner on to College Ave. As usual, I stand up to let it know I need to get on. The bus driver continues as if he hasn't seen me, so I stick out my arm at a 90-degree angle, Mexico style, to hail the bus. Still no reaction from the geriatric bus driver, which quickly pushes me to my last resort: yelling. Begrudgingly, the bus stops and waits for me to catch up to it. The embittered golden-age bus driver then refuses to open the doors until I get RIGHT up to them. As I'm scanning my pass, he yells at me--in that abrupt style that is unique to public transport discourse in the greater New York area--that if I would've been at the actual bus stop, he would've seen me. Since I'm fluent in New Yorker, I jumped right in and fended off the ridiculous accusation: "That's where I WAS!" That's where I'd ALWAYS stood up! I'd NEVER had a problem getting a bus to stop before, and I've been taking that route for months. MONTHS!
*Throws hands up as if complaining about the sudden increase in the price of shmear at the 72nd Street bagel shop he's been going to every Friday morning for years. YEARS! I'm veklempt! The whole world's gone mashuganuh!*
So anyway, the argument goes on a bit more, then Grandpa Metro goes back to inattentively driving whilst daydreaming about Betty Grable...
...and I go sit in the back and listen to my iPod, contemplating what has just happened. When suddenly confronted with ridiculous or false accusations or any kind of dispute with a random, unknown person, my initial reflex is almost ALWAYS to play the peacemaker. Just like my mom, I'll lower my eyes to avoid adding flames to the fire, accept whatever trivial bullshit is being flung my way, and just seek to end the situation as quietly as possible and avoid a confrontation. It's not worth dealing with the negative vibes, man!
Grandpa Metro was clearly a little off and well past retirement, so when we got to my stop, I was sure to say "Thank you, sir," to which he responded appreciatively. There: I've got my Kathy St.George hippy zen back. Namasté. As I'm crossing the street to get home, an oncoming car--who didn't need to slow down for me but for some reason just felt REALLY put off that he had to see a pedestrian anywhere near the front of his car--flashed his lights, rolled down his window and said, "Damn jaywalker!" To which I INSTANTLY shouted back: "¡TU PUTA MADRE!" Without even thinking about it. So much for ending my night in zen-like bliss.
Having just screamed "¡Tu puta madre!" as a knee-jerk reaction to a total stranger in the street, I'm pretty sure that, like it or not, I have some of my biological father's blood in my veins. And not even when I'm drunk.
I know this is a very strange question coming from someone who has never had a father, but I do remember a few things about my biological father: one of them being a penchant for being confrontational and belligerent with total strangers in public venues. Almost as a reflex. When going out in public, some people put on a nice hat or fancy gloves... wait--why do I think I live prior to 1960?
Rephrasing, when going out in public, some people put on their sunglasses. Or perfume or cologne. My dad always put on his fightin' pants, which kept him ready at literally a second's notice to react combatively to any number of public encounters. Always super classy, my dad.
So getting out of class tonight, I waited on the bench at my usual bus stop waiting for my usual bus to come by at its usual time.
Sure enough, Valley Metro's Route 66 turned the corner on to College Ave. As usual, I stand up to let it know I need to get on. The bus driver continues as if he hasn't seen me, so I stick out my arm at a 90-degree angle, Mexico style, to hail the bus. Still no reaction from the geriatric bus driver, which quickly pushes me to my last resort: yelling. Begrudgingly, the bus stops and waits for me to catch up to it. The embittered golden-age bus driver then refuses to open the doors until I get RIGHT up to them. As I'm scanning my pass, he yells at me--in that abrupt style that is unique to public transport discourse in the greater New York area--that if I would've been at the actual bus stop, he would've seen me. Since I'm fluent in New Yorker, I jumped right in and fended off the ridiculous accusation: "That's where I WAS!" That's where I'd ALWAYS stood up! I'd NEVER had a problem getting a bus to stop before, and I've been taking that route for months. MONTHS!
*Throws hands up as if complaining about the sudden increase in the price of shmear at the 72nd Street bagel shop he's been going to every Friday morning for years. YEARS! I'm veklempt! The whole world's gone mashuganuh!*
So anyway, the argument goes on a bit more, then Grandpa Metro goes back to inattentively driving whilst daydreaming about Betty Grable...
...and I go sit in the back and listen to my iPod, contemplating what has just happened. When suddenly confronted with ridiculous or false accusations or any kind of dispute with a random, unknown person, my initial reflex is almost ALWAYS to play the peacemaker. Just like my mom, I'll lower my eyes to avoid adding flames to the fire, accept whatever trivial bullshit is being flung my way, and just seek to end the situation as quietly as possible and avoid a confrontation. It's not worth dealing with the negative vibes, man!
Grandpa Metro was clearly a little off and well past retirement, so when we got to my stop, I was sure to say "Thank you, sir," to which he responded appreciatively. There: I've got my Kathy St.George hippy zen back. Namasté. As I'm crossing the street to get home, an oncoming car--who didn't need to slow down for me but for some reason just felt REALLY put off that he had to see a pedestrian anywhere near the front of his car--flashed his lights, rolled down his window and said, "Damn jaywalker!" To which I INSTANTLY shouted back: "¡TU PUTA MADRE!" Without even thinking about it. So much for ending my night in zen-like bliss.
Having just screamed "¡Tu puta madre!" as a knee-jerk reaction to a total stranger in the street, I'm pretty sure that, like it or not, I have some of my biological father's blood in my veins. And not even when I'm drunk.
posted by Charlie at 10:05 PM
6 Comments:
I was riding the bus one fine morning when the driver blew by a guy at the stop. A bunch of the other passengers hollered at her. She said "He should be at a stop!" So I pointed out the bus shelter he was standing in. She stopped but the dude had to run about a block to catch her.
So glad to know it's not just me!
Yeah it is pretty well known that "crazy jenn", is usually kept nice and tight in a little box, the one standard exception is motor transportation. planes trains, automobiles, just getting from here to there really. it is a little out of control. so maybe i have a little of the old man in me too :) except i probably would have cut the old guy and kicked the rude car driver's bumper and then had someone "hold my child" while an all out brawl ensued. if you are gonna do it, why not go all out? i'm just sayin.
I would expect nothing less, Your Royal Cholaness.
I was riding the bus one time and struggled to find a seat far away from a seat harboring a strange puddle, an inebriated man, or someone with crazy eyes. Did I say one time? I meant every time.
Hahahahah. So true!
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