There seemed to be a rash of assholeism going around Los Angeles today, and it’s a shame because the day was absolutely stunning. It rained last night, and the winds have been blowing these amazing puffy clouds across the sky all day. When the winds blow from the direction of the ocean, the air becomes clear, the sky becomes blue, and the ambient light gets gorgeous – like the South of France, but with more plastic surgery and huge SUVs.
So I went out on my bicycle with two cameras (one film, one digital) and took double pictures of everything all day, just to compare how they look and because I needed an excuse to enjoy the gorgeous day. Also, I needed an excuse to not clean my bathroom or do the laundry.
So on my way home, I decided to stop off at Target and pick up a few things that I’ve run out of (toothpaste, soap, shampoo, clean underwear).
At the Target in Hollywood, there are several of those ’10 items or fewer’ checkouts, and when more than one of them is open at the same time, generally the customers just form one line and wait for the next available clerk.
Right as it was my turn, a guy bearing a striking resemblance to Jabba the Hut in a polyester warm-up outfit shoved his cart in from the side, cutting in line. Since I was in such a good mood and he looked like he didn’t get out much and as such wasn’t aware of the informal register line policy, as I got up next to him I said in a tone I hoped was friendly, “Just for future reference, there’s one line for all these registers and everyone generally waits back there.”
He spun around, enraged. “It was your choice to stay back there. I don’t have to wait there. Where does it say that? WHERE? Where’s the user’s manual for the checkout lane? Huh?”
Responses started flashing through my brain (“Aren’t you people supposed to be jolly?” “You can’t seriously need instructions to wait in a line.” “So, obnoxious asshole, huh? How’s that working out for you? ‘Cause this polite civilized thing I’ve been doing just doesn’t seem to be getting the job done anymore.”), but when someone’s that aggressive right out of the starting gate, sometimes it’s better to walk away.
Plus, he smelled – bad. Like a cross between fetid sweat socks and Indian food belches. The smell was so bad my eyes started to water and I actually had to take a step back as I gasped for air.
Now, when I’ve got the funk I know it. It rises up to my nose in, well, clouds, reminding me that I need to get to a shower and soon.
How could he not smell that? I think people in Seattle could smell that.
I think he took my blinking and gasping for air to mean that he’d bowled me over with his logic (or something), and he gave a self-satisfied smirk before waddling away towards the elevators, thankfully taking that godawful stench with him.
Once I got my sense of smell back, I went on my merry way and was heading to Amoeba for Money Mark’s in-store show, when a woman approached me and asked me where the nearest corporate drug store was. I told her (“why, it’s on Sunset, just a few blocks away”), only to have her give me a dirty look and say “The directory assistance says it’s on Cahuenga. Cahuenga!” Then, she tapped her cell phone for emphasis – just in case I wasn’t familiar with the concept of directory assistance.
You know, I just live here. It’s not like I’d know something like where the nearest drugstore is or anything, but hey – if you want to go way out of your way, then fine by me. Have a great day.
At least she didn’t smell bad.
Is there something in the air? Did the underpants gnomes suddenly branch out and start pissing in people’s cereal in the mornings?
I’m still in a good mood, though. The pretty day has become a very nice night – even if it is cold.
Filed under: Non-Work, Photos, rants