I had it out for everybody the other day. First, I was pissed I had to take the train home, as my vehicular mode of transportation is on hiatus for the summer. Next, two young do-no-gooders hopped the subway turnstile right in front of me, bing, bong, one right after the other. The first guy then tried to hold the emergency door open for his friend when he must have caught a glimpse of my utterly gobsmacked face.
I made a noise. Almost like a tisk. I looked at them and they looked at me.
“It’s stupid what you’re doing,” I told them, unsure if they even understood me or heard me.
“What?!” The first jumper questioned, “Did you just say stupid?”
“Stupid,” I said, then I clamped my mouth shut, unsure if I regretted my decision to speak.
“Stupid!” they laughed at me. The same one fired back, “You’re mad? You’re mad, huh?” I could do no more than to shake my head at the fare-hoppers, disgusted at the state of things and working to preserve my sense of safety. I hugged the subway column a bit tighter as they walked past me, still saying things I cannot recollect, though the second one pulled his chin-strap mask down and laughed at me. I reverted to my fourth grade self and mocked him in his tone right back. He started saying something else, but I guided him away with my hand. “I don’t want you to talk to me, go away from me,” was my command, which he abided. I kept an eye out for them as I gathered my weekender and two canvas bags onto the train, but saw them no more as we sped uptown for the three remaining stops.
It was already aggravating to leave Jersey in the first place, but now, as I trudged the one avenue over en route to home, a group of twelve tourists stopped dead in their tracks on the cramped sidewalk before me. My walking trajectory and bag balance inertia was not allowing me to stop, and walking into oncoming traffic to avoid the logjam wasn’t an option. So I did the next best thing and barrel rushed forward, hoping they’d see me coming and move away accordingly.
“Ex-ka-YOOZ me, guys, thaNK. YOU.” I grouched, keeping my focus and rip roaring through, maneuvering as not to hit them like a good New Yorker should, but enough to send the signal that you’re in my f*cking way. “Right in the middle of the sidewalk,” I muttered as I walked on, showcasing exactly why they call New Yorkers assh*les.
I heard some kind of mocking, like a warbling siren voice from behind, punctuated by a shriek: “You have a FANTASTIC. DAY!” Sharon retorted, mocking my tone. I have no idea if her name was Sharon. She sure sounded like one, though.
Still, I wasn’t going to let her win. I whipped around, and shuffled my hands to the left. “Just move to the side, just a little bit!” was my point, and I turned back again to finally finish this journey. “Well we don’t know where we’re going,” a man’s voice sang out, and I genuinely felt bad about it for a moment. So I spun around one more time and offered, “Well then ask a New Yorker! We don’t mind!” But at that point they were too far to hear me, and I just became the crazy lady yelling on the street. A few eyes across the way darted in my direction, confirming my crazy status. But Sharon had one more something or other left for me, as I heard a final garbled hen caw taunting the absurdity of it all.
And there I left it, giving the out-of-towners a good story about how Sharon stood up to the c*ntface New Yawker.
I got home not feeling great about myself, wondering just what it was that came over me. Maybe it’s the endless conversations about the family money situation. Maybe I’m just missing my man back home. Whatever it is, it’s out there. And it’s real. Whatever it is, I’m calling it out. And so is everyone else, it seems.
It’s not always in my best interest to take it out on everyone else, but some days, things seem to call for that. And at this point, the new wave of call out culture will continue to grow. Not a day goes by where I’m not seeing another explosive and obvious story about something we were told to keep a lid on. Like a president’s mental fitness. Or men pretending they’re women. Activists masquerading as judges. Wasteful spending at all levels of government. Anti-American causes championed. Heck, how about politicians’ body doubles and clones? It’s all still out there. But the obscurers’ trickery no longer works. They’re still pretending and trying to sell us on it, but the fact remains we’re no longer interested. And maybe some of us never bought into it. It’s just that this time, the call out voices behind us are getting stronger, and are coming from any and all ends of the political spectrum. It scares them, as it should, and it’s long past time our voices win.
And so the veil has finally lifted this time. We’ve shifted toward righting the wrongs we’ve faced for decades, and focusing on actual things people care about, not made up problems to sell for clicks. All my bloviating for years about it has finally come true. What once was verboten is now yours to rip. But you have to do it the right way, that’s the real trick here. That’s what I have to remember, even as my anti-government Karen levels reach an all time high. Someone’s gotta do it. Might as well be me.