The Driver from Hell: This particular perp is rampant in the DC area. We've got loads of people in powerful, stressful positions (or perceive themselves to be) and in an awful big hurry. Driver from Hell commandeers his vehicle as if en route to perform brain surgery on dying infants. Really he's going to Starbucks for a venti caramel frap, extra whip. His message is clear: "I'm important. I'm in a big damn hurry. I'm gonna pile drive up your exhaust pipe until you cave to my vehicular bullying and change lanes." He weaves in and out of lanes, tailgates, cuts you off, speeds up at yellow lights and generally behaves like Mario Andretti on crack. His grille hovers about six inches away from your back bumper. At seventy miles per hour. Apparently he was sick the day they taught blinker usage in driver's ed. That police car that always appears when you're just a smidge over the speed limit? Never around when this egomaniac is on the road.
The Aggressive Shopper: The Costco in Fairfax on any given day might as well be downtown Manhattan at noon. Every time I go I vow it's the last time but find myself back for 300 Gatorades, 1,000 rolls of toilet paper and a feed sack of those addictive pita chips. It's wall to wall shopping carts and Aggressive Shopper has an important agenda (she has a tanning salon appointment) and we are all just obstacles in her way. She's the one who steals the parking spot you've been patiently waiting for the octagenarian to back out of. She's the one loudly complaining in the returns line when she doesn't have a receipt and they won't give her cash. She's the one behind you whose cart keeps nipping your heels but clueless because she's got her big ass sunglasses on, she's texting with one hand and swinging her fake Louis Vuitton on the other, knocking down merchandise as she goes. When a new register opens, she's the one who races from the back of the line to be the first one there. She's a gigantic selfish jerk and I always need a stiff Coke and one of those horribly delicious fried churro stick things after I've dealt with her.
The Obnoxious Sports Fan: This one really gets me. Probably because they are so blissfully unaware of the damage they leave in their wake, mostly inflicted upon their own children. Obnoxious Sports Fan can be identified by numerous traits, all equally nerve-grating and offensive. Most of us past third grade get it that good sportsmanship - on the field and off - is the cornerstone of advanced civilization. Not this knuckle-draggin' fella. With no regard whatsoever for the eardrums, much less the sanity, of those unfortunate enough to be seated around him, he blasts his armchair-quarterbacking brilliance for all to hear. Nobody is safe. Referees, coaches, opposing fans, players on both teams (especially his own kid), the poor time clock guy and the scoreboard keeper are all subject to his blustery vomit . He was an assistant coach or maybe even actually played a game in his youth and therefore is armed with just enough sports knowledge to entitle him to boom his hair-trigger opinion straight into your inner cochlea at close range. He looks like he'd get winded walking to the don's john behind the bleachers, yet he screams at his kid to run faster, hit harder and "LOOK ALIVE!!!" Pretty certain he wouldn't look too alive after 5 minutes of water aerobics, much less an entire football game. Obnoxious Sports Fan has the power to make me want to roundhouse kick him in the teeth and feel no remorse. Clearly, I have a problem.
Rude people are everywhere and they appear to be multiplying. Rudeness, like poison ivy, spreads quickly and causes an annoying and uncomfortable situation for those exposed, yet the source remains oblivious. We're setting ourselves back thousands of years if we let these Neanderthals with no regard for anyone else but themselves take over. Problem is, short of stooping to their level, I'm at a loss for how to stop them.
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