|
The Gigantic Vagina of Modern Man |
|
|
|
Written by Bohb
|
|
Monday, 28 July 2008 |
 I was running an errand. The type of errand where you go to a guy’s house to pick something up and you may sit around and chat for a bit. But not long, just that right amount of time.
If you don’t know, then you don’t know.
It was a typical winter laced one-way street in Chicago, and I noted as I saw no legal street parking readily available that the cars on each side of the street were a bit closer in than normal from the extravagant snow banks encroaching in from either side. I pondered the social conundrum of double parking, and as I looked around realized that only the smallest of compact car might be able to squeeze by my SUV if I were to do so. ‘Oh well, I’ll only be but a moment’ I thought as I put on my blinkers. Just to make sure I drew no unnecessary attention I pulled up an extra two houses.
The errand turned to pleasantries, the pleasantries turned to jokery, the jokery enabled by the proverbial cough-cough of hazy living rooms.
One does not dwell on the passing of time in such situations. Therefore, one can not be surprised that my first realization that 23 minutes had passed was upon my exit from the subterranean dwelling. What made me check my phone (for the time (I do not wear a watch (I find them antiquated (the time is displayed so many places these days!)))) was my momentary wondering as to why so many cars were backed up on such a small residential street. That moment passed with the obvious realization that the bottleneck in traffic flow was indeed me, or more accurately – my car, which was parked 2 houses up.
At this point I was still not linked to the car that was causing what can only be assumed to be a probable 20 minute delay in these many (about 7 cars) diverse city dweller’s movement across the city. I do not know what they were doing, where they were trying to go or the urgency of either – but in my actions I had declared whether subconsciously or not, that my time and needs were of greater priority (at least to me (and those matter most)). The delay was substantial enough that many of the drivers of the cars had gotten out, were discussing and pointing at my car (a not pristine ’99 Jeep Cherokee), milling about and in general looking rather annoyed. I looked inside and touched my paranoia (enabled especially by the aforementioned pleasantries) and braced for a lynch mob. I anticipated fisticuffs. There would certainly be some pushing and shoving. Many of these annoyed commuters were able-bodied men in their 20’s and 30’s, I would not escape this without some bodily harm.
I analyzed the situation; there was no easy way out. My best move was to take a path that did not directly associate me to the car until the last possible second, at which point I could dart to the car, be in, start the engine and tear off with the least interaction with the potentially dangerous micro-mob. While this was the best option that did not require taking a cab home and ditching the car, it did still require directly passing through a number of angry looking men. This would be the crucial move of the plan. I was on guard, ready for the fight and put on my city face of apathy to any other human.
I walked toward the car, kept my trajectory elusive and made my move. It was obvious I was headed for the car; I passed directly through a pack of 3 males. I braced for the verbal impact that would preface the physical. Yet, it did not happen. I reached for my keys and inserted them into the lock. Still nothing. The mob quietly re-entered their respective vehicles (assumption, I had no way of knowing if they car swapped at this point) without a word. I started my car and drove away without fielding a single rude comment!
HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE?!
I had rather significantly inconvenienced so many, yet no one was willing to make a scene. To start a fight. To defend what is right. And while this social wussiness had saved me from a beating – it still did not feel right. When affronted man should not stand for it. A man should defend his own social standing within the larger group. But not modern man. Modern man is too scared of the unknown. Too scared of the confrontation. To scared of what they may be liable for or how the unknown may respond. Modern man is a gigantic vagina.
One person has commented on this article. 1. Untitled
Billy Ellzey, Registered You make your point very well. However, I am more inclined to think that most people are willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt rather than cause a stir after only 23 minutes. Perhaps if you had lingered an hour or more, there might have been a different outcome. J! Reactions • General Site LicenseCopyright © 2006 S. A. DeCaro |
All Our Original Columns 
