Crowd Control
Advice, Confessions Comments (16)
Whenever I’m deep in the stinking hot bowels of a big city, I find it necessary to focus my mind on something other than the mass of humanity populating the sidewalks that I’m trying to navigate. I do this to take the edge off of having to negotiate crowds of strangers, as this is probably the least enjoyable act of negotiation in which I ever have to engage. The method that I use for this preoccupation is simple and effective and I pass it on to you, dear reader, that you might be able to set your mind free when in a crowded place, even though your body remains trapped behind some sweaty dude waddling along eating a popsicle.
Look around you and find someone doing something reprehensible. Not like kicking a puppy into traffic (although that does count), but something that just screams ‘Douchebag!’ or ‘Skanky ho!’. Depending on the size of the city and the time of day, this will probably be a pretty easy task (D.C. and London are practically Mecca where this is concerned). This morning, my subject was expressing his douche-y side by walking perpendicular to the flow of heavy sidewalk traffic while yelling expletive-laden gibberish into his cell phone. Yes, exactly. Good times.
Now here’s my method and this morning’s utilization: I pictured this guy sitting in a smallish crowd watching a puppet show. One of the puppets starts randomly making fun of him. How this came about isn’t really important, although I pictured the puppeteer peeking from beneath his little hideaway, seeing the guy with his douche-y smirk, and whispering to himself perhaps in a broken Italian accent, ‘Ahhhh, douche-a-bag’. So, the puppet begins to verbally assault the guy, pointing out his lack of soldierly bearing, aversion to the opposite sex (and vice versa), appalling lack of backbone, and propensity for the smoking of pole. The man begins to sweat. His breathing becomes shallow and panicked. He turns various shades of crimson. A small wet spot forms on the crotch of his wrinkled khakis. A child nearby giggles.
Suddenly, he jumps up, rushes through the crowd, and lunges for the puppet. He rips the little felt kitten (trust me, picturing a kitten verbally browbeating this guy was cathartic gold) from the puppeteer’s hand, throws it to the ground, and begins to jump up and down on it while simultaneously screaming and weeping. He stops, but only after realizing that he’s exacting merciless revenge on a sock in front of parents and children and the elderly. His phone rings, he answers it, and I say to him, ‘You’re a moron’, then hang up.
Aaaaaaaaaand scene.
Not only does this keep you occupied for the rest of your journey, it’s like putting your imagination on a treadmill and gradually increasing the speed until it’s running along at a nice clip and getting an excellent and rather enjoyable workout. For that matter, I think creative-writing classes could do worse than take regular field trips to big cities in order to make such imaginative exercises a part of the syllabus. So, there you have it: My gift to you, because I care and I want you to be happy. May all of your future excursions into crowded places be filled with imaginative glee.
Sir @ July 23, 2008
in my experience, the douches in DC tend to be tourists. ain’t got no sidewalks in the sticks, apparently.
If I thought all of that while walking through a crowd I’d forget myself and start doing the sound affects (Italian accent, puppet voice, guy screaming, children laughing, etc…) and then I would run into the sweaty guy and make him drop his Popsicle. Meanwhile you’d be behind me picturing me at a puppet show.
Hello, Sir.
kat: Agreed. London is pretty much in the same boat. Although both cities do sport the occasional self-important suit-wearing volume-challenged cell phone-reliant asshat, such flavors of people can be found elsewhere, as well (the above case in point).
Scott: If I were behind you watching all of that, I’d be too busy pointing and laughing and yelling, ‘HE MADE HIM DROP HIS POPSICLE, THAT WAS AWESOME BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!’ Then I would buy you lunch.
Hmmm, that does sound pretty effective, but I think my way’s better. I just walk down the street on like autopilot, and my brain is one million miles away, telling me stories. Actually, on second thought, your way is probably better because it involves paying attention to your surroundings. One day I’m going to walk into a cactus or something. (Not that you have that problem where you live.)
OK, your exercise makes my imagination a little tired. Good times, though! I live in a big city and am used to the crowds, such as they are, and I am usually just mentally making fun of them for something– “haha, you’re sunburnt!” “haha, you’re wearing a fanny pack!” “haha, you’re hot!” “Wait… what? Go back, go back!”
(Re: writing classes– I had exactly that assignment! We had to go to a crowded place (I believe our choices were an ER, the zoo, the mall, or a sporting event) and stay there for two hours, and just write. Holy crap!)
Ashley, JenBun: Let me tell you both another story that’s happening right now. The airport shuttle service here in Toronto uses huge sweet-ass buses whose seats have power outlets and wi-fi. This is awesome. What’s not so awesome is that I was picked up 2.5 hours prior to my flight (the airport is 30 minutes away from the hotel) and am still on said bus, a mere 30 minutes away from missing the flight thanks to factors beyond everyone’s control. That would be 2.5 hours to go ~35 miles. Writing this is calming me down and will probably save lives, so when you look in the mirror this evening as you brush your hair or your teeth or whatever you might need to brush before going to sleep, know that you probably saved lives in Toronto by distracting someone for a couple minutes.
You just want us to think about you before bed…
…NTTAWWT! ;)
(But holy shit– that sounds like a hellacious busride! I hope you make it home for some good sleep– and dreams of Ashley and JenBun– tonight!)
The asshats, they’re everywhere. Mostly, I just envision myself scolding them publicly for their bad behavior and enjoying their discomfort as the crowd around me nods its approval for everything I say. I even craft my vitupertative sentences to incorporate clever (to me) turns of phrase, calculated to bring them maximum embarrassment for their failure to observe laws of the most basic common courtesy. Which just goes to show that I’m an arrogant S.O.B. underneath it all, and feel entitled to berate others who don’t match my standards. I’m okay with that.
indeed. one of my favorite games to play when walking to or from work is “bluetooth or crazy?” you’d be surprised how often i’m wrong.
I’m usually too busy trying not to trip over my own feet to pay attention to anyone else. In my world, walking is an extreme sport.
Tonight, as I am brushing my eyebrows (?), I will think to myself, today I saved Sir’s life. Or maybe some people he was gonna kill. True story.
JenBun: NTTAWWT? Pardon?
Shari: It’s not a matter of expecting other people to match anyone’s personal standards for behavior; it’s more an issue of their acknowledging the fact that other people even exist outside of their own little world. If anyone in such an situation is arrogant, it’s definitely the person that’s oblivious to the fact that other people may not share his/her interest in their phone conversation or have a need to use the sidewalk.
Kat: An excellent game, but what if the answer’s both A and B?
Jamelah: Don’t you mean Xtreme?
Ashley: It was definitely other people’s lives that were saved. It was an adventure that ended well, mostly, though without my single piece of luggage, which is probably halfway to Saskatchewan.
I don’t think I’m overstating things by saying this reads like a roadmap to my mental salvation. I’m going to start using this ‘smack-talking puppet operated by Italian immigrant’ scenario more often. Because the douchebaggery levels in this town are far above the tolerable safety allowances.
NTTAWWT = Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That. Usually used when someone talks about somebody being gay (NTTAWWT). I have chosen to use it liberally, everywhere, sprinkled throughout conversations like rainbow nuggets of deliciousness. Or, y’know, just to confuse the fuck out of people
Anyway, I was just saying that I didn’t mind the implication that you wanted me (and Ashley) to be thinking about you before bed! ;)
Vahid: Portland? I thought Portland was a liberal nirvana, where people are so open-minded and polite that bad stuff never happens and kittens and unicorns frolic together in green meadows and the only store in town is Whole Foods. No?
JenBun: Oh, right….I learn something new everyday.
You’re an odd bird, aren’t you?
Wanna make out?