Excuse me

So. I was out shopping last night, and I've noticed something.

Go with me on this journey. You're standing in the aisle of a bookstore. You're looking for one particular book. Maybe it's Twilight, maybe it's Apocalypse for Dummies. Either way, you're on an epic quest. Then, in a flash of blinding white light, you see your book.

But, it's at the other end of the aisle of which you are in the middle of, and standing between you and your literary prize is a hoard of people all flipping through books and not paying any attention to you whatsoever. In your head, you weigh your options. You can turn and take the long way around that will hopefully be less populated, or you can "excuse me" your way through the pack.

And like the fearless person you are, you choose to split that group like the Red Sea.

"Let's dance, bitches," you say, but you say it in your head, because otherwise you'll look nuts. You lift one foot, and march towards the crowd.

Being fearless, but polite, you say aloud, "Excuse me". And then you realize you should have taken the long way around, because this little dance battle is not going to be won by you without some damage to either your dignity or your brain.

You see, the response to someone saying "excuse me" is never, "Let me get out of your way". It's, "Let me make this even more inconvenient and uncomfortable for you."

There's the Non-Mover. This one glances up at you, then looks back down at the book their reading and don't move.

There's the Snob, who moves, but begins to breathe like an angry horse at the fact that they had to move a little to allow you passage to the book you probably won't even buy after being so badly traumatized.

There's also the Underestimator. They laugh nervously and open up a nice little space of three inches in which they expect you to pass. While I'm flattered that they think I only take up three inches of space, I'm also horrified because they just opened the door to something dark and unpleasant. It's called the Shuffle, and your dignity and innocence is about to die a little when you take your next step.

To complete the shuffle, you'll have to arrange your body and whatever purse/bag/man bag/disco ball you're carrying, and contort yourself to fit into the 3 inch space to get to your damn book. Sidling up to the rows of books, you try and scoot by without incident. You aren't so lucky, because the universe doesn't work like that, bucko.

It's now that your innocence dies, and your dignity shuffles to a back corner in your brain to dress it's wounds, mostly because your butt just grazed the other person, and shit just got rough. You did the Shuffle, and you got burnt. Sorry, insert one token to play again.

There's the Bulky One. These lovely people move graciously out of your way, but their numerous shopping bags/body bag of a purse still has it's fists up. You smile and thank the person, and prepare to be punched in the face and beaten mercilessly by the forest of bags. At least they didn't make you do the Shuffle.

Bruised, bloodied and violated, you stumble your way over to your book. This victory is papery, but short lived. You still have to get to the cash registers.

When you do, you see that there is a line up. It's not an organized one though, so you're going to have to ask whose in line to find the magical pattern that makes up the line. Pulling your big boy pants up, you ask the person nearest to you, "Are you in line?"

And a whole new shitshow starts.

The person will do one of a few things. One, they'll look at you like you just punched a baby, and say nothing. Two, they'll shake their heads and continue standing there looking like they're in the line. These are the decoys, and they'll get you every damn time.

Finally, you find the end of the line. You think your ordeal is over, but fate is not that kind. You're stuck behind a Floater. They float out of line and to look at all the little trinkets and stuff by the registers. You never know if you should take their place in line, or wait for them to dance back over to the line. Still traumatized, you let the Floater continue and hold your tongue.

Then, a phenomenon happens that boggles the mind. If you're like me and on the short side, you become the doorway through the line. Every single person that needs to cut through the line will choose directly in front of you for their cutting place. You're going to walk back and forth so many times that by the end of it, the floor under your feet will be worn away. Finally, you get to the register. You pay, and run out of the store. Your battle is over, but only for now. You'll be back.

That last part was totally meant to be read in your best Arnold voice. Though it doesn't sound like "I'll be back" when it's in his accent. It sounds more like, "Ahhhhhl be baaahhhccckk". The last word should sound like you have a head cold and are trying to clear your throat. That's the official "talk like Arnold" tutorial.

On that note, does anyone else find it hilarious that Governor Arnold is doing his best to keep foreigners out of California? Last time I checked, the governor was from I'll-be-back-istan, not Cali. Just sayin.

Anyway. I have to go write an essay on the effectiveness of the British colonies. Yeah. I fell asleep just writing that sentence.

Adieu!

Love,
Megan