People who couldn’t find their way down a hill if they were strapped to a skateboard

Do you know anyone with a terrible sense of direction?  I live with one. My wife, who I love dearly, could take a wrong turn on a chairlift.  I bought her a talking GPS for her car, and I often imagine it saying, “Shit, woman.  Where the hell are you going now?”

Come on, everyone!  This way to the bottom!

I was born, as you might expect, with an excellent sense of direction (as I was born with many gifts, you see).  Now before you go into this nonsense about how all men think they have a good sense of direction, let me stop you.  It’s true.  Your jealousy will get you nowhere.

I’ve put together the following 3-question test to help you determine if you are a good or bad navigator:

1. Do you get off the elevator and turn the wrong direction to go to a place you’ve been before?  Score 3 points if there are elevators on both sides of the hallway.  Score 1,000 points if the elevators only let out on one side.
2. Can you point to your mailbox from any room inside your home?  Yes?  Go check if you’re right.  No? Score 5 points.  Point in a direction more than 90-degrees off? Score 1,000 points.
3. Have you ever actually driven or walked in a complete circle, recognizing a landmark you saw earlier?  Score 1,000,000 points.

How did you do?

People who have not been programmed by the media to think that every flight has a 97% chance of ending in your death, a very hurty, nasty death where you will probably catch on fire and drown at the same time because of light turbulence or someone leaving their cell phone on

So if you’re not living under a rock, you’ve heard about the plane crash in New York.  You’ve also seen the spot-on reporting, reminding us all that the goose population has risen 400%, that the climate change is increasing turbulence, and that the majority of pilots prefer to fly just a little bit drunk.  It helps take the edge off.

While we’ve had our eyes on Afghanistan, Canada has been raising and training geese in camps, virtually guaranteeing that double-engine bird strikes will happen on more flights originating near the Canadian border.

My wife is afraid of flying.  Not really flying itself – the part in the middle.  She’s just afraid of the “beginning to fly”, or takeoff, and the “almost no longer flying”, the landing.  Statistically, these are the times when most accidents happen, but also statistically, you’re more likely to be attacked by a rabid unicorn than experience any sort of life-threatening issue on an airplane.  So really, the fear is justified.

One of the things that always strikes me as funny is that my wife also hates it when the plane turns or banks somewhat sharply after takeoff.  Inevitably, she looks over at me with perfectly round, bugged eyes and says, “Why are they turning?  Why do they have to do that!?”  I can’t resist: I almost always reply, “because we’re not going to Cuba today.”

This is not something she finds funny until much later in the day.

So listen: I can understand the fear of flying.  The media gets a hold of this stuff and goes haywire.  In their computer simulation of the “crash” yesterday, a “crash” pilots would probably describe as a “flight anomaly”, NBC this morning showed a model of the plane approaching the Hudson, nosediving, when in fact there is no way that the plane approached the water at that angle.  If that were the case, there would be a wing wedged into the 65th floor of the Empire State building.

It bothers me that the media is sensationalizes this stuff to the point of making people abandon the safest mode of travel in existence.  Who wouldn’t look at a plane approaching water at a 45-degree angle and think, “If I was on that flight, I would be sitting in my own doo-doo.”  But those weren’t the facts of the case.

The irony of this all is that a big news post went out just the day before this incident, saying that we’ve gone two years without a fatality from a major airliner accident.  We still haven’t, but there’s no doubt in my mind that yesterday has grounded more than a few people.

So a positive message today, folks.  Go get help with your fear of flying.  It’ll help you in other places, too.

People who like to wipe their butt with recycled thumbtacks and glass shards

Well I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving.  I really mean that, with few exceptions.

Thanksgiving is a time for family, a time to gain 5 lbs., and a time to go to someone else’s home for several days and and be tethered to their preferences instead than your own.  And nowhere in a strange home is preference more apparent than toilet paper.  When it comes to stocking the bathroom, there really are two types of people in the world: those who prefer comfort and those who feel that “cowboy walking” is a small price to pay to save $0.04 every 6 months by buying cheap toilet paper.

I was going to try to find a picture of a cowboy on Google, but figured pictures don’t get much better than this.  God bless you if you spend the holidays with a family who does this.

So now I sit here in my office recovering from a moderate case of Rudolph ass, just trying to make it through the day, but I can’t help but reflect on my experience.  During the trip, I actually considered changing my diet to minimize the number of episodes I would have to endure, but decided that was a little bit ridiculous.  I could make it through.

Well, I did make it through, and now I feel like cartwheeling everywhere I go to avoid the friction of walking, but it’s over and I’m back home to the stuff that the bears cuddle with in the commercials.  Which actually brings me to another question: why do Americans need bears cuddling with toilet paper?  Why can’t we just tell it like it is, like in the old “great taste, less filling” commercials?  Can we handle “superior absorbtion, less chaffing”?  Too much for our puritan sensibilities?

People who make massive “rob me” withdraws but get the better end of the deal

Now I realize that there aren’t a slew of economics majors out there, but this one is a pretty easy win, unless you’re scared of being robbed by that 83 year old woman behind you in line.

When you go to the ATM (please don’t ever say “the ATM machine”), you are a moron if you withdraw a small amount of money at an out-of-network machine.  On that note, why in the hell do we put up with out-of-network machines?  This concept of charging people money to get their money is totally absurd, and I think I’m going to kick the next banker I see square in the berries as a result of this micro-rage I have at the moment.

Anyhow, someone gave me this idea last week while we were talking about other, less important things.  Since that talk, I’ve been paying more attention to the amount that people are taking out of ATMs (yes, to an outside observer, it would appear I was planning a robbery), and it’s mind-blowing.  Either 90% of Atlanta has the net worth of your average Rwandan or they’re a few Skittles short of a rainbow, but in either case I can’t understand why someone would pay a 30% fee to re-own money that is already theirs.  I saw one guy go to the ATM 3 times on a single night last week.  Can someone please explain that to me?

People who are about to go through a 2 minute period of complete hysteria

One of the most amazing displays of human behavior happens in the 35 feet of space in front of (and the 15 feet past) the metal detector at an airport: personal artifact diarrhea.

Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take out all of your fancy things I can’t afford……….Sir?…SIR…DID YOU HEAR ME?…HEY, GET YOUR SHIT OUT OF THE BAG OR I WILL CALL THEM TO COME TAKE YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM

When infrequent travelers (or stupid people) travel, there is a short ritual they must endure before they get to put their snowman sweaters back on and see the cousins for the holidays. Of course, I’m talking about airport security. A barrage of questions – “Do you have any liquids” “Darlin’ you sure you warnt me to answar that?” “Is there a laptop or camcorder in this bag?” “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, but you sure are pretty” – that they have never heard before. The power struggle of negative net worth TSA employees yelling at high net worth people, and the subtext that ensues. And of course, the wanding, if you’re lucky enough.

But what really gets me fired up is the part at the conveyor belt. The part where the bag has to go up, the jackets, shoes, and hats have to come off, laptops have to be removed, and composure falls to the curb. This is where people completely lose their minds, and their belongings. Why does it take 9 bins to put what once fit into one purse through the x-ray? Why do you continue to set off the metal detector repeatedly, remembering every single piece of metal on your body one at a time? And most importantly, why do you refuse to lose your place in line while you take 12 minutes to disassemble your baggage carrier? Let people pass!

Now people who are not prepared for security are unbelievably annoying, but people who are prepared can be equally annoying, and arrogant to boot (there will be a separate post on arrogant frequent travelers). You know, these are they guys who are dressed in their brown leather shoes with tassels, wear a sport coat and thin-rimmed glasses, and bring nothing but a Grisham novel through security. If they do bring a bag, the laptop is out of it and the bag is on the conveyor belt in seconds. They are pros, and they know it.

But the shame I am trying to bring today is not on these guys. As prissy as they can be, frequent travelers know what they’re doing at security and they deserve a pat on the back. The shame lands solely on the inexperienced.

I saw a line in Orlando’s airport that didn’t use words like “first class” and “coach” to segregate the lines, but instead went with “experienced travelers” and “infrequent travelers”, thinking that was nicer. Well I thought this was a great idea, so I hoofed right up to “experienced travelers” and tried to get through, only to realize that this was indeed first class. Now that’s presumptuous, isn’t it? That frequent travelers all fly first class?

So I may have been rejected that day, but I will cast my vote now: make this the type of line we work with from here on out. Let the amateurs have their line and the pros and aspiring pros have another. By showing the amateurs the difference right there in front of them, maybe we can incite some change.

PC: People who do not believe a dinosaur is going to attack their car

I know that Jurassic Park was an inspiration to us all in so many ways. The years we spent watching glasses of water ripple as overweight people strode by our desks in the office was a serious source of entertainment, and I even took up tree climbing for a short while, just to see what was up there. Unfortunately, not all habits we get from movies that touch our soul the way Jurassic Park did are good ones. Yes, I’m speaking of the phenomenon of protecting one’s grille, headlights, and taillights with steel, sending a message to all raptors in the area: you might fuck up my paint, but you’re not going to mess with my lighting or air intake.

Grille guards (and associated accessories) first started showing up after the movie. Before Michael Crichton’s books started being recreated by Hollywood, there was no supplemental protection on SUVs around America. This reality is represented in the chart below:

As you can see, in 1992, there was some awareness of the movie, but no awareness of grille guards, according to a poll of me. In 1993, the movie exploded onto the scene, and there were some early adopters of grille guards, probably people who also owned motorcycles. In the following year, grille guards surpassed the movie in awareness and have retained more awareness as time has gone on, carrying 5x the awareness of the movie into the new millennium. At one point in there, I was seeing these guards on regular cars, which was just ridiculous. If your car doesn’t have 4-wheel drive, you’re never going to see a dinosaur, that’s just obvious. But now, in 2008, it is less common to see these accessories in place, and it concerns me that if those beasts do ever get off of the island, our lighting is at serious risk.

Looking at these car protection buyers over time shows an interesting pattern. Much of their buying habits revolve around movies:

I can’t help but wonder what we have coming up next: with the summer blockbuster “Death Race” fresh in our minds, will history repeat itself?

People who were not dropped on their head as a baby

Ok, this one really gets me going. Probably one of the biggest peeves in my entire life is when someone other than me interacts with my seat on an airplane, the greatest offense being the use of the seat in front of them to get up and lug their dumb ass to go pee on the wall in the lavatory.

But this is not the only chair-related offense:

- Why does it take 200 lbs of force to get a frakkin magazine out of the magazine holder? It isn’t a damn bear trap, it’s elastic. Be gentle.

- Why do you not believe that the meal tray is in a sufficiently upright position to latch it? You do not have to push the tray through the seat. You only need to get it up against the back of the seat lightly and turn the little thing with the useless coat hanger hook down.

- In what universe is your kid practicing his Tae Kwon Do on my seat okay? Strap that little bastard down before I do the parenting.

But the king of kings is definitely the chair-pull to get out of the seat. Beyond all else, this wind up and slingshot of my cranium is what makes me want to test how heated an argument can get before the air marshal reveals his identity.

I have narrowed the causes of this issue down to three:

• Overweight
• Oblivious
• Overweight and Oblivious

Obviously the overweight one is going to happen: this is America, after all. Overweight people in America need help breathing, walking, looking, hearing, sleeping, staying awake, controlling restless legs, you name it (I’m just going off of the pills that exist, not my own judgement), so of course they’re going to need some sort of secondary power source to get themselves out of their seat: their arms on my chair.

I’m not sure what to do about that one, so I usually just offer a displeased look, which offers the question “are you just overweight, or overweight and oblivious?”, depending on whether I get a “sorry” or not. With a “sorry”, I can be reasonably happy and forgiving. Without one, I am tempted to be a real jerk: I’m not sure if you have feeling in that skin drapery that used to be your triceps, but it’s being dragged across my head and I want to puke in my mouth.

Oblivious is just unacceptable. If you do anything in this world and do not know what the effect of it is, you need to stop everything you’re doing. Everything. There is no such thing as a victimless crime. Don’t fart in the self-help section of Barnes & Noble: the cookbooks are right on the other side and you have a victim. Don’t back your car out of your parking space without looking: someone else who is not a moron is driving down the aisle and they really don’t believe that anyone is stupid enough to continue doing what you’re doing, but you do. Don’t bring your 3 year old into a nice restaurant: that should speak for itself. Just stop all of your behaviors and start using your eyes, ears, and brain to understand a new way of going about your life without annoying others. And for the love of everything holy, don’t EVER pull on the back of someone’s chair in an airplane. Figure out how to get yourself out of your own seat without using the buddy system, or just sit there and let the blood clots form in your legs.

Sincerely,
the victims

p.s. I’m sorry. This is a little mean, but holy balls does this one get me going.