Plenty of them are still out there. Chances are, you have one,too: one of those patriotic decals on your car meant to bring ustogether as a nation in the wake of Sept. 11. “Proud to be anAmerican,” they read. “Unitedwe stand.” And the most earnest of all, “I am angry; I want peace.”
You might infer from all these heartfelt declarations toolingaround San Diego that perhaps people have their priorities straightat last. After all, our country has experienced the most heinous actof terrorism ever known. We Americans now appreciate the little joysof everyday existence and no longer take our happiness for granted,right? Toward our fellow human beings, we’ve especially resolved tobe a little nicer, right?
Yeah, right.
The warm fuzzy feeling of national unity has gradually worn off.
In the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attacks, it waspossible to see slightly more civility than usual. For example,sometimes people heading north on College Avenue would actually letyou pull out of PS I when it wasn’t even necessarily your turn.
Bit by bit, however, Americans are slipping back into their oldpatterns. The person three steps ahead of you pretends not to knowyou’re there so as to avoid having to bother holding the door openfor you. Coworkers resume backbiting each other.
In some cases, belligerence is back with a vengeance. The nightlynews recently reported that a young woman actually assaulted an olderwoman in a supermarket for having more than the minimum number ofitems in the quickie lane.
The re-emergence of rudeness isn’t my observation alone. GoodHousekeeping magazine just conducted a poll in which 79 percent ofrespondents thought people are generally ruder than they were 10years ago, and 60 percent felt Americans have not become less rudesince the events of Sept. 11. But I didn’t need the poll to beconvinced; I experienced the phenomenon firsthand a few days ago.
On a lovely clear day of blue skies and balmy temperatures, Ipulled into the absurdly tiny parking lot of a strip mall and parkedin the last slot in the row. Next to me, a car full of people withBaskin Robbins ice cream cones was just about to leave. Unbeknownstto me, I had parked ever so slightly crooked. My vehicle was stillwithin my stall’s lines, with the exception of a tiny bit of my rightfront tire, which was turned out a little too much to the right.About six inches of the rubber crossed over at the top of myneighbor’s stall, but it obviously hadn’t hindered them in the least;they backed out as I was exiting my vehicle.
Then their car, which was a new, shiny, purple PT Cruiser,stopped. A thirtyish redhead in the backseat felt compelled to lowerher window and snarl at me, with an ugly look on her face, “Niceparking job!”
My immediate response was, “Sorry about that.” (Perhaps I’d beencloser to their car than I’d realized?) I looked over and saw thatno, it was indeed an encroachment of mere inches. I looked back ather. Amazingly, she continued to glare at me and mutter about my poorparking skills.
Now, this woman was eating ice cream with friends inside a reallycool car in a beautiful city on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, yetshe became furious over six inches of rubber tire. I decided to helpher get over it by pointing out the obvious to her. “I said I wassorry, and this is not a huge deal. Try to be a nicer person, wouldya?” She didn’t seem at all appreciative of my advice, and insteadinstructed the driver to (finally) move along.
I was too flabbergasted at a person getting so uptight and nastyover such a minor issue that I failed to notice if the Cruiser had apatriotic sticker on it, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if it had.
United we stand — that is, at least until somebody ticks us off.
–Ronda Brewer is a history junior. –
–This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of TheDaily Aztec. Send e-mail to letters@thedailyaztec.com.Anonymous letters will not be printed — include your full name,major and year in school.
