I go to a high school of 1 600 students. During the brief five minute break between classes, the hallways are absolutely packed.
However, for some not-yet-understood reason, people feel compelled to stop to talk to friends in the middle of doorways. I’m fucked tired of having people stop in the middle of the fucking hall, blocking the flow of students. People are trying to get to the washrooms and their lockers, you morons. Do you think you talking to your friend about your fucking boyfriend problems or Ally Mc-fucking-Beal is important? I want to be on time for my class, not hear about your stupid problems.
I’m tired of saying to these people “Maybe this isn’t the smartest place to be having a conversation” so I’ve now turned to just pushing them out of the way. Now the novelty of forcing them out of the way is wearing thin.
And this isn’t, of course, localised in school. In malls, libraries, everywhere, people block hallways or doorways to talk to someone. What’s so hard about moving over to the side of the hall so people won’t be affected by your conversation? Stupid inconsiderate people.
Ah, but that would require them to actually be aware of someone else’s needs apart from their own. Which, to about 90% of adults and 98% of teenagers, is impossible.
Oh yeah? Try having a couple slobering all over each other in front of your locker, and them having the AUDACITY to give you a dirty look when you ask to actually GET IN to your locker. Geeze, imagine that!
How rude of me.
Imagine if the lockers aren’t built into the walls, but are ranged in rows, like soldiers at attention. Now picture the “popular” kids, who are too insecure to go take a shit by themselves, let alone go to their lockers alone, obstructing traffic by having six friends standing there giving them moral support while they retrieve their algebra books. Now imaging yourself, alone, trying to navigate this labrynth of poufy hair, neon sweaters, and high tops (hey, it was the 80’s), accidentally stepping on the foot belonging to the biggest asshole in school, and being grabbed by the neck and slammed into the wall.
Whoever said high school is the best time of your life was the biggest fuckwit ever God blew breath into.
Amen! I’m fairly certain that if you took a poll, most people’s memories of high school would resemble Freaks & Geeks or Square Pegs more than Beverly Hills 90210.
Mostly I displayed the opposite reaction–when people were stopped in doorways, or in the hall where I could not easily go around, I would go through.
One of my fondest memories of high school was two twits gearing up to have themselves a fight, in the middle of the hallway of course, between classes with the usual crowd of gawkers. It was at the stage of all teenaged-boy fights where they circle each other, glaring and occasionally pushing each other–you know, one step up the evolutionary rung of fights from actually jumping up and down, screeching, and hurling dung at one another.
Circle circle push. Along comes me, not even breaking stride, right through the outer ring of onlookers, directly between Twit One and Twit Two as they started to come back together. I push them both back away as I stride between them, and walk right through the gawkers on the other side, not looking back.
I was later told it completely stopped the fight from progressing, as it totally discombobulated the twits in question.
“People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children”
-Calvin
Oh, yeah. In the state of Kentucky, you’re not allowed to build a high school for more than 1,500 kids. Well, ten years ago, they were building a new school in the fastest-growing suburban part of our fair city. So they asked the state if they could build an extra-big high school.
The state said “no”.
So by the time I left, we had 2,100 kids in a school meant for 1,500. How wonderful. The entire school has two floors, and only three staircases between them. And needless to say, the all-holy, all-powerful cliques of popular kids decided that the best place to hold their all-important between-class meetings was on the fucking stairs!!! Arghhh!!! What is wrong with these fucking morons?
Nah. People who say this just have selective memory. It only seems like the best time of your life compared to junior high. Or even those new-fangled middle schools, I presume.
BTW, you’ll find that people just can’t resist bottling up stairwells and doorways in college and the workplace, too.
I am always behind the person on the escalator or elevator who gets off, and stops dead to figure out if they need to go left or right. MOVE OUT OF THE WAY and then figure out where you’re going, you moron!
Before they cross paths with you, Kinsey, they ride the subway with me where they pull the same stunt as I’m getting off the train, leaving me trying to hover over the gap as 50 people behind me are pushing to get out. I swear the next person who stops to enjoy the scenery in a crowded subway station like this is going to go flying across the platform.
I was inspired, by the way these little knots of oblivious assholes screw up the flow of traffic, to start referring to them as “human cholesterol” . . .
This applies to supermarkets as well. Apparently there are people who feel the aisle is nice and wide so that they can sit there with their big-ass shopping carts side by side as they tweedle on about whose kid made the biggest goddamn doodoo in their stupid didie. Meanwhile, my fondest wish is to grab what I need off the shelves, find the shortest possible checkout line, and get home to my personal sanctuary that keeps the greater mass of stupid humanity out of my life.
But no.
Yinz need to compare shopping lists, exchange calorie and fat information, talk about your whiny piglets, comment on each other’s clothes, talk about how inconvenient the new peewee football practice schedule is for you, and generally gab until I finally get tired of simply saying “Excuse me” in a gentle, polite voice, turn my cart around with something of a scrape of wheels on linoleum, and stomp off out the end of the aisle I came into in the first place.
And then I hear “How rude was that?” from behind me.
Sister, if I were a less-gentle human being with less of a fear of being seen as a raving lunatic, you’d be standing there with your face red and your ears burning because I would tell you exactly what I think of self-centered assgimlets with verbal diarrhea who can’t be bothered to stop talking long enough to move 3 feet so someone who’s been trying to get your attention politely for over a minute can get through and pick up the item he wants to buy at the other end of the row and then don’t realize that they’ve just been a major bitch.
Grrr…
jayjay (who realizes he kind of hijacked this one…sorry!)
I have the type of luck so that when I’ve racked up enough tardies to send me to “In School Suspension” and one more will do me in, a knot of kids in the hall stand directly in front of my classroom and my teacher watches me struggle my self (being small physically and insignificant in the food chain of high school) through the crowd to finally reach the door an approximate two seconds after the bell rings, when the group disperses from their talk of a sex-and-drug-filled weekend. And the bastard of a teacher writes me up.
Sometimes I can’t imagine growing up and living with the aforementioned people when they grow up and reproduce.
-gags-
If Idiot 1 meets Idiot 2 and they reproduce to make Idiot 3, is Idiot 3 twice as idiotic? And what is two Idiotic offspring procreate? Do two Idiot Offsprings make a Moron?
I am going to be surrounded by this for the rest of my life.
-begins to cry at the thought-
sigh It’s like a conspiracy, except that the people involved don’t even realize what they’re not capable of or the torture they inflict on others.
Can Idiots renounce their former ways and become one of “us”? Or are they doomed forever?
Most idiots stay idiots. Some manage to pull it off and begin to think. Some actually get more idiotic, but these folks go on to serve as headline fodder for the media.
I really can’t stand inconsiderate pricks who stand in the aisles like that. You’re far more polite than I am in that situation. I give them one polite “Excuse me” before I start pushing my cart through. Hey, bullshit all you want, just have the courtesy to park your carts on the side of the aisle.
And while I’m at it, keep your damn kids on a leash, will ya? If they’re running all around the store like the little gutter snipes that they are, I’ll be goddamned if I’ll make any effort to step out of the way when they come flying down an aisle towards me.
The adults who do this shit no doubt stood by their lockers and in doorways when they were in school. Their kids will no doubt grow up…excuse me, they’ll just get larger, they’ll never truly grow up…and do the same.
I agree with the leash sentiment, but I’ll still make the effort to get out of the way, thanks. I got run into by one the other day. I was wearing shorts and the kid ran face first into my thigh. He :: shuddering :: slobbered on me and had grubby, sticky hands, it was disgusting.
As for the OP, I’m not too polite when it comes to some one blocking a pathway. I will say “pardon me” once. Then I’ll give a booming “Coming Through” and push my way past them.
I found this to be a problem at malls (only one of the reasons I hate malls) … people will meander along and just stop dead center to fish something out of their purse, or adjust their bags. Is it really so difficult to move to the side before stopping?