the Masonville Escalator Cockblock.

Posted: 21st December 2012 by traumaturgist in Uncategorized
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Rant time, kids…although I think this one should be subtitled “The Biggest DoucheNugget in History: Close Encounters of the Turd Kind.”

I hate malls…with a passion.  Nevermind it’s Christmas – which, like weddings, funerals, and wars, brings out the very best and the very worst in people.  But my hatred for malls isn’t only due to all of the insipid products for sale nowadays – I don’t really care that much if you really have to have that new cell phone, or if the Gap beckons you coquettishly, or if you’re one of those dupes who likes to pay thousands of dollars for nice shiny rocks to put on their fingers…I think my real beef is with what malls do to people.

I’m not saying anything new when I tell you that more often than not malls tend to turn people into sluggish, somnambulistic fuckwits barely aware of their surroundings, content to shuffle about like intoxicated heifers warmed by the glow of florescent lighting, dulled by retarded music 1 and mesmerized by a myriad of products packaged to seduce and drive the good-ol’ capitalist production toward the inevitable cliff…but hey, they look neat!  Christmas is its own unique brand of repetition-compulsion.  There.  Now that I’ve thrown my hat yet again into the political arena…

But I digress.  I’m the kind of person who has no time for all this crap (even if I had time for it…I’d have no time for it).  So when I have to go to malls I get in and out as fast as I possibly can.  I hate being caught behind the mall herd and do whatever I can to get around/through/away from it.  But this year I learned something, friends…I learned that there’s a certain variety of mall-cow – a subspecies, if you will – with attitude.  Perhaps “subspecies” isn’t the right word, because my encounter was with only one and I can’t prove – thankfully – that more than one exists (although statistics are against me on this one…sigh).  So for the sake of argument let’s just call this one…

 

The DoucheNugget

So when I’m walking through malls I’m pretty quick…weaving through crowds and walking up and down escalators to get done and outta there.  But this isn’t to say I’m an asshole about it.  Let’s face it – as cynical as I am about humanity, it doesn’t blind me to the fact that you get farther being nice, or at least civil to people.  Sadly, this doesn’t work with everyone.  So I tend to keep going when I step on an escalator…what the fuck am I gonna do, stand around and look at the gaudy ornaments and drum my fingers to yet another Barry Man-I-Blow-esque version of “Jingle Bell Rock”?

Now, I’ve long since realized that people just don’t give a shit about the “walk left, stand right” escalator rule, so the only way around it is to approach people – specifically the person on the left – and politely say “excuse me.”  Every single human being I have encountered has, in response to these two words, stepped aside and let me pass – often with “sorry,” in which case we two exchange a quick smile, the requisite minimum of warm fuzzies and go our merry ways.

Until I met the DoucheNugget.

This guy, in his mid 50s, short, a bit squat, with a bit of a grey beard, was in front of me – on the left, of course – with his wife (who said nothing during the following exchange).  I approach them and say “excuse me” politely.

This guy looks back at me.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

(What the fuck?) “Umm…up?”

“You’re in that much of a hurry to get up this escalator?”

(No, really…what the fuck?) “I’d like to get past you, please.”  Part of my mind is aware I should be telling him about the “walk left, stand right” rule – not to mention the fact that it’s taking this tard more energy to cockblock me than it would to move aside briefly in response to a polite request.  But most of my mind is still on No, really…what the fuck?

“We’re all in a hurry…you can wait with the rest of us.”  Now even in the short time we had together which I will forever treasure, I could break this down in an instant.  Here is a classic example of Mall Tard Logic;2 first of all, if we’re all in a hurry…why are we “waiting?”3  Second of all…well, there is no second of all, aside from the fact that “we’re all hurrying” is coming out of the mouth of this “person” who is standing perfectly still – and refusing to let someone pass who politely requested that they “stand to the right.”

So my response – “Gee, you look like you’re in a real hurry, standing in one place like that” – went unacknowledged.  Maybe it’s because they never actually expect anyone to pay attention to the everyday “pleasantries” 99% of the population spout unthinkingly (Mall Tards included of course) with no other end than some feeble attempt at connection; maybe it’s because the bouncing ball of their thought rolled down the gutter decades ago and is stuck in some drain caked with rat feces…but either way, when you call a Mall Tard out on their thinking it’s like showing a dog a physics problem – you get a dead, blank stare and the instant sense that by wading ankle deep into the pool of human intelligence you’ve gone where no Mall Tard has gone before.

I cannot recall what DoucheNugget mumbled in response to my logical deconstruction – I somehow don’t think it was anything to be included on a Voyager probe.  But by this time we were at the top and I scurried on my way, oblivious to anything he might have said in parting.

But let it not go unsaid that sometimes the universe does give you little presents.  Despite what you may think, I’m not a confrontational guy by nature; I do, however, stand up for what I believe in (on points large and small), and remain adamant that sometimes people just need to be told what they are.  And lo and behold, on my way through the Bay to the bus stop, lo and behold – DoucheNugget and his wife are walking toward me!  Just a little token, I think…there’s so much I could say, but nah….

I walk by him and, as I pass: “Dickhead…”

I keep walking – I’ve said what I needed to say, and I’m sure nobody had a clue what this surviving specimen of Fucktardicus Rex was spewing about in a crowded perfume section when he (I presume) turned around and shouted “Hey…you have a good Christmas, asshole…”

Mall Tards…sheesh

 

  1. Especially at Christmas; can we really feign incomprehension of shopping-mall shooting sprees while bluegrass versions of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” exist?
  2. Mall Tard Logic, n.: a type of “reasoning,” blatantly nonsensical and, if remotely sensical, completely self-contradictory.  This logic exists in a dialectical relationship with the mind-numbing atmosphere of your average shopping mall; recent studies indicate that its conducted through fluorescent lighting, food court trays and Starbucks Frappucinos.
  3. This reminds me of another classic example, typical for your average car-driving suburban drone: one day I almost got run over walking down the sidewalk by some mouthbreathing halfwit who was driving forward out of a parking lot while looking both ways (and not forward). Me: “Watch where you’re fuckin’ going!”  Him: “Oh, I’ll watch where I’m going all right!”….?!?