No Thanks

Whoever said "chivalry is dead" is probably just as big an asshole as all of these people who refuse to acknowledge it when its presented her/his way. A bit harsh? Perhaps, but in my experiences, at least, the majority of the people in this world wouldn't know an unnecessarily-kind gesture if it politely smacked them in the face. Excuse me..."this world" should be replaced with "New York City and the northern parts of New Jersey,' my common dwellings and the places where I unconsciously go out of my way to be courteous, but rarely am shown love back for it.

Maybe it's a bit self-important to feel this way, but I ponder: is it that difficult to say 'thank you' to somebody who holds open a door for you? Especially when this door-holding lad has been holding said door for a good 10 or more seconds, having seen you approach yet wasting a good 12 seconds his day to spare you the chore of opening said door yourself? I think not. But alas, people seem to have some sort of allergic reaction to acknowledging when I do such an act for them, and it's pretty astonishing to me.

Here, good ol' me, who says "thank you" and salutations of the such more often than I probably should. Maybe I'm a chump for doing so, who the hell knows. It just comes naturally to me, I guess it's good parenting on my 'rents behalf, or just some internal inclination to go about my days as positively as humanly possible.

But it's wearing thin on me, this lack of respect from fellow pedestrians. Not to say I'm going to stop holding doors for people, or allowing people to go ahead of me on lines if we both arrive at the line's end at the same second. I'll surely just continue to let the resentment fester inside, 'til one day I unexpectedly slam a door right on some asshole's face. I can picture it now: as the hard door surface smashes into his nose, busting it open for a stream of red to pour out like somebody bit into a juicy chocolate-covered cherry, I'll stand there, Joker-like grin from cheeck to cheek. And then this broken-nose chap comes toward me, looking to fight back, but I swiftly unleash all of the pent-up rage from my lifelong lack of respect on the rest of his face, sparing the nose simply for the purpose of not adding insult to present injury.

All because that asshole lady with the scowl on her unpleasant face had to push into me even as I had the door for her miserable ass. Well played, bitch.

Surprisingly, I'm kinda smiling while writing this, though it may seem as if I've had to wipe off the fumes that have left my steaming ears and collected on the laptop monitor. Call it "silent rage," if you will.