“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
--- Douglas Adams

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Super Andrea to the Rescue!!!

Hubby says I have an over-developed sense of social justice. I think he may be onto something but I would modify that a bit by saying I have an over-inflated sense of social justice. This keen sense doesn't make me more inclined to work in a soup kitchen or send care packages to soldiers in Iraq, however. That's not to say I haven't done those things or won't do those things, it just means that they aren't the first things that come to mind when I think about how to make the world a better place.

In my screwed up head, the concept of social justice manifests itself differently. I never, ever take cuts in line. I always look behind me when I enter a store and hold the door open for the person behind me. I always stand on the right on an escalator if I'm not walking. I say 'please,' 'thank you,' and 'excuse me' because it's never out of fashion to have good manners. I take my turn at a 4-way stop according to the law. I tip well. I give up my seat on the bus to people who need it. Now I don't do these things because I really want to. I do these things, for the most part, because it's the right thing to do.

On the surface these things may seem like pretty nice habits I've developed. By themselves, they probably are nice habits. But this is me we're talking about. I turn into a really mean and horrible vigilante when I see other people not following the same rules I follow. I've developed the tendency to call people on their rudeness in really screwed up ways. For example, just the other day I was on Muni coming home from work. I was on the inside seat of a very crowded train. A twenty-something girl is sitting next to me. A man gets on the train. He has a cane and a very pronounced limp. He stands by our seat. I look up at him and ask him if he wants my seat. He says no so I stay put, but not without making eye contact with the girl next to me and saying "good job for offering up your seat." Then I proceeded to gather my bag and pretend to stand up every few stops so she thinks I'm getting off the train and moves to the side, thinking that's what she gets for not giving up her seat. She finally got annoyed and changed seats.

I'm not like this all the time. There is a certain time during each month when I turn into big fat mean social vigilante. I'm like the City's disgruntled hall-monitor handing out citations and administering passive-aggressive punishments. I try not to do this as I realize I'm being totally nut-burgers, but sometimes it just pops out.

Bear with me. This lunacy rears its head only one week a month.

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