In my small(ish) city in Michigan, I’ve seen more than my fair share of angry middle fingers.
There are days I think most of the world outside my car is an unhappy, ill-mannered, hurried lot consumed by getting to or away from someplace faster than I am. Who knows - work, home, the next drink - something so important that my mere presence on the road elicits a bird, a stare, and a complementing comment that needs no lipreading to translate.
There are some serviceable excuses for rudeness:
It’s just words.
Get a thicker skin.
You deserved it.
Don’t act like you never yelled inside your car.
What matters is what I think, not what you think.
c0
The saddest part about this is not that rude people exist, but that they dispense rudeness so liberally, then grow indignant when they’re on the other end.
This lack of civility didn't exist on such a large scale in small(ish) cities when I was a kid. It was certainly around, but it was rare.
And it’s not only a Malthusian reduction of road space or compressed schedules that’s squeezing our tempers out of us (though that’s part of it).
Something else is at work.
[2014-04-24]
c0
No comments:
Post a Comment