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Monday, April 20, 2009

Witz DOESN'T Pick: The Opposite of Road Rage, Supermarket A-Holes, and Hippie Hill

I've upgraded my Netflix from 2 DVD's to 3. I don't know if that means I'm coming to terms with my situation and making good decisions or if it's just one more step towards completely giving up, but I don't care, because I've got Religulous, Milk, and Jim Gaffigan's stand up arriving to distract me any minute now. While the weekdays are for solitary confinement, the weekends are for people-- and boy did I see some gems of the human race this weekend.

Thursday night, I was driving home at 2am on near empty streets (because that's how I roll now) when I passed a slow, beat up sedan which was going 25-30mph in the left hand lane. I was going 35-40mph and I hit four or five green lights in a row and eventually came to a light just as it turned red. After about 2 minutes of waiting, the sedan pulled up next to me, which meant that they got to see my one man show that I call, "Singing Full Volume To The Gaslight Anthem While Drumming On the Stearing Wheel Because Nobody's Supposed to See Me Driving At Two In the Goddamn Morning!" It took me a few seconds to realize that one of the kids in the car was standing up through the sunroof and trying to talk to me.

Kid: Hey!
Witz: What's up?
Kid: We caught up to you!
Witz: What?
Kid: We caught up to you!
Witz: Ok?
Kid: Don't drive so fast-- you're wasting gas!
Witz: Actually, I was only going 35 miles per hour, while the optimal cruising speed for gas efficiency in most vehicles, including my own, is 55 miles per hour, which is why many highway speed limits that were updated in the '70's during the last gas crisis are 55 miles per hour. Ironically, if I had been driving at 55 miles per hour, not only would I have been more efficient, but I would have made the light that caused me to stop and allowed you to catch up and we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

....

Ok, that's not what I said. What I actually said was:

Witz: I was only going 35 miles per hour, but I appreciate it, man.
Kid: I mean it!
Witz: Good lookin' out.

The light then proceeded to turn green, which presented an awkward moment as I had to decide whether or not to gun the engine and tear away from the sedan. I decided to drive exactly how I had been before, but suddenly realized that I quickly needed to be in the left hand lane in front of the other car for an upcoming turn. Gunning it, I pressed on the accelerator and pulled in front of the other car just in time for a tight curve, which meant I swung too quickly around the curve with my tires screeching as if I had been driving 90mph. Realizing I had just given a proverbial "Fuck You" to the sedan, I slammed on the pedal and accelerated quickly through the upcoming yellow light to avoid another awkward "The More You Know" moment with a couple of 16 year olds. Subaru Outback, biotch.

Saturday included fun at the supermarket. I'm waiting in line to buy a sandwich and this is what I hear (almost verbatim) from the guy dressed like Tony Little in front of me, who is speaking AT the asian girl making his sandwich:

Guy: Just the meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. That's it. Ha! You can't believe it, can you?
Girl: ...
Guy: You can't believe that's all I want on my sandwich-- that's because we Americans always want everything on there, don't we? You people don't understand us, do you?
Girl: ...
Guy: Mayonaisse, mustard, fat, fat, fat-- that's why America's so obese. We want everything.
Girl: ...
Guy: Super-size it, right?? Can you super-size that? Aha-ha-ha. Can you super-size that?
Girl: ...
Guy: You don't need everything on there. Meat, cheese, some veggies-- that's healthy. Americans, we don't get that. (the girl hands him his sandwich which he accepts without a thank you and leaves. I step up to the counter)
Girl: What an asshole (definitely born and raised in California).

My weekend concluded with a day at Golden Gate Park on Sunday. We specifically went to a part of the park called "Hippie Hill" because when we go to a park, we like to feel like we're in our own backyard...that happens to be full of completely insane people and includes the constant threat of stepping on a hypodermic needle. I've been a few times, and the experience never fails to amaze me.

Let me set the scene for you. A hill crowded with people smoking weed, shaking from meth or heroin, and dancing. On the field below, people throwing frisbees, dancing, twitching, dealing-- or playing with baseballs, footballs, soccer balls, or in our case, the nerf whistler football, which is still just as unnecessary as it ever was. One patch of grass is occupied by a midget sized tee-pee which looks like the last bit of land that we relegated to the Native Americans and then said, "Buildings cannot exceed three feet in height." Jugglers, hula-hoopers, stick twirlers, and the everpresent drum circle; a veritable circus of extraneous mediocrity. I watched two stick twirling men and wondered how many hours of practice they put in at home before deciding to take their act to the park to be seen "casually enjoying themselves." How did they even meet?

Twirler 1: Nice to meet you, Damian, how do you know Katharine?
Twirler 2: Well, Eben, I know Katharine from college. We were on the ultimate frisbee team together...
Twirler 1: Oh, so you like throwing a frisbee?
Twirler 2: I do! I also enjoy fishing, knitting, camping, stick twirling--
Twirler 1: --Whoah whoah whoah! I'm gonna go ahead and stop you right there, Damian, did you say stick twirling?
Twirler 2: Of course I did.
Twirler 1: I myself am a stick twirler.
Twirler 2: What a coincidence! Perhaps we should hangout for a series of stick twirling and non-stick twirling activities, ultimately spending Sunday afternoons at Golden Gate Park showcasing our skills non-chalantly.
Twirler 3: What about me!?
Twirler 1: What do you do?
Twirler 3: I slide oversized spindles between two sticks with string attached!
Twirlers: We're gonna be such good friends.

What gets me isn't the things people do, but what must be going through their head in order to do them:

"I'm gonna go down to the park by the drum circle and play 'Summertime' on my saxophone! It's not important that I don't really know how."
"Should I look for a job today orrrrrr spend eight hours playing a drum?"
"Crack crack crack crack crack crack crack crack...."
"I'm the guy who brought a trumpet to the drum circle. They're gonna LOVE ME!"
"Devil sticks ARE NOT dead and I will prove that to the world."
"Which came first, the hula hoop or the ecstasy?"

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "You're just upset because all of the shirtless heroin addicts make you look overweight." Fair enough. But ultimately, I just want to pick out different people doing different things to fight each other using their "talents." Stick guy, fight yoga guy! Rhythmic Gymnastics girl, fight hula hoop girl! Meth guy, fight heroin gu-- oh, you already have that covered. Good.

So that's how my weekend went, which made me wonder how important human contact really is. Let the agorophobia begin.

Good Thing I Can Judge Other People Since I'm Being So Productive...,
Witz

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