Civilization and its discontents, Minneapolis-style

Yesterday afternoon was unpleasant. First, I went to Radio Shack. It's a tiny storefront in a down-at-the-heels strip mall. It was crowded, and there were three clerks, all girls around 16 or 17. I was working on my transaction, returning something, when a guy somewhat younger than I rushed in, went to the back of the store, and quickly came to the counter where I was standing.

"Excuse me, but you look like you're about finished here. Do you have a box of 50 CDs rather than 25 CDs?" We were not finished, as I had just started telling the clerk why I was returning the phone headset (my el-cheapo cell phone didn't recognize it.)

My body language or glance must have conveyed my irritation, as the man said, "Are you enjoying this beautiful day?" I turned to him in some puzzlement, as it was pouring, and I wondered who he was talking to. I grunted, and he persisted. "You know, I sacrificed so that you could enjoy this beautiful day. You should thank God for me every day."

He stared at me very aggressively, and I said, "Oh?"

"Yes," he went on, "I gave up my youth so that you could enjoy this gorgeous day."

I responded, "Oh, and when was that?"

"In Vietnam, " he said. "And you are alive and standing here on this beautiful day because of me."

I said, "Well, it's great that we're both alive." That clearly was not the response he wanted, but he kept staring at me. The teenage clerk was staring at him.

And here's the deal: I was not going to engage him on the mechanics of Vietnam, and how his presence or absence there had little to do with me. And, I didn't believe he had actually been there, unless he enlisted at a very young age. He was too young. But, the young clerk really couldn't deal with him and me, so I drifted away, resolving never to come back to that Radio Shack, even though it's the closest to my house. He was nuts. And he wore a pimp hat. But he had clearly fixed on that ploy to get people my age to do his bidding. It worked.

I got in the car and headed to the food co-op, stewing. Right behind me were some teenagers in a low-rider truck with the woofers at top volume. The pavement shook, and I heard the scatalogical lyrics of the song very clearly, even though my windows were closed. "I hope they go deaf," was my uncharitable thought.

Then I arrived at the food co-op. It was crowded, they were stocking the shelves, and I scowled at everyone, irritated by the self-righteous appearance of all the 40-somethings who were filling their carts with organic this and fair-trade that. My cart was similar, but, of course, I was not self-righteous. I fumed at the folks who somehow didn't sense I was right behind them and move over. I made my purchases and left.

Then I went to the liquor store. The tiny parking lot, which holds about eight cars, had three SUVs taking 1.5 spaces each. I had to wait to park. "People should not be allowed to purchase these things in the city. They accomplish nothing, and they are used for commuting, trips to the store, and anything you could use a Toyota Pirus for," I ranted to myself. I don't own a Toyota Prius, but my cars usually get more than 5 mpg. I finally parked, got my bottle of wine, and left. Someone was waiting for my space. The SUVs were still there--I suspect the drivers were not shopping at the liquor store.

Finally driving home, I fumed and sulked. Several of the streets were under construction, with huge ruts, and "Road Closed" signs. People did not know how to navigate these single lane streets. I fumed some more, believing that I had now figured out why people move to the suburbs. But I hadn't--not yet. At first I thought I had succumbed to right wing mania, and my dearly held liberal views and live-and-let live attitudes had finally cracked under the strain. But the enthnicity of all the offending folks varied, and included several of my own persuasion. Finally, after brooding about it for a while, a light flashed.

All of these incidents were caused partly by someone else's thoughtlessness and being human, in other words, self-centered. But, in the suburbs, there would be so much room that being thoughtless would not have been remarkable. There would have been a clerk to deal with the Vietnam guy at Radio Shack. The teenagers with the super sound system would have been able to pass me. The coop's aisles would not have been crowded. The liquor store would have had a bigger parking lot. In other words, they could have all been incredibly rude, and it would not have bothered me, because I wouldn't have experienced it. I would have just have continued to do my own thing, secure in my own little bubble, without outside intrusion. We not only need to learn to live together, but to do it in very tight circumstances. Density matters.