Well, in my mind it is. I’m mean, but I’m not that mean. (Or maybe I should just sat that I’m a well-behaved mean.)
Anyway. So one of my colleagues has been talking on and off for months about her family’s planned trip to DC. She has two kids, both of them very bright and very much looking forward to going to the Smithsonian, etc.
And a husband with no spine whatsoever. Last night, he cancelled the trip, changing the destination to Baltimore. Which itself is not a tragedy, I like Baltimore, why, some of my best friends live in Baltimore. But if you do so only because you’re too goddamn gelatinous to handle a bit of a terrorist threat,
(can we say it in unison?)
(it goes without saying, doesn’t it?)
AND YOU LIVE IN MANHATTAN, YOU MORON! IN A BUILDING LESS THAN A HALF MILE FROM THE UN! ON THE EAST RIVER! WITH LOTS OF UN EMPLOYEES AS NEIGHBORS!
Where, prithee, do you really think you’re gonna end up a crispy critter or blown to smithereenies?
And, more seriously, I think you’re making a completely unfit model for your kids. What the hell, you show them that running away is how grownups deal with danger? Maybe that’s justifiable if we have a threat with some heft to it, but if every time John Ashcroft farts you go running into some sort of hidey-hole, that’s just pathetic.
This is when the right message is to go with the family, together, and show you’re brave, together.