Am I Rude?

There is nothing that quite entertains me as much as people watching. Or, rather, there is nothing that quite entertains me the way that people watching entertains…, uh, me.

The variety of different ensembles, actions, expressions, smells, etcetera, can be a non-ending source of humor, shock, disgust and/or horror.

What trumps people watching? People watching with friends and adding a running commentary to the spectacle.

During the SB XLI party I attended (at a local bar/restaurant), I was doubly entertained by the sporting event blaring throughout the locale and the following, selected, remarkable occupants:

1) The lady with the wig that was both unrealistic and, I’m speculating, impact resistant. Lady head gear, in addition to being well protected, cranially speaking, also refused to remove her huge face hugging sunglasses, so was, in fact, well prepared for, say, a meteor shower crashing into the building in a blinding, and hopefully not deafening, flash. If I had been a tad more paranoid, I would have accused her of being a mole for an extraterrestrial invasion. Best comment: She looks like stunt double to Diana Ross in the rehab scene from ‘Lady Sings the Blues.’

2) The falling-down-drunk guy that continued to approach to within three feet of my table (and no more) and morosely stare while I continually asked those sitting with me what the hell he was doing in a voice that was both outraged and intrigued. Best moment: As the clock ran out on the Bears, witnessing Grown-man-appearing-intoxicated-in-public having his date wake him up from a dead sleep from the bar and struggle him into his coat. Very classy.

There were more, but one thing I’m continually surprised by is the response I get with people who are not used to my comments. By that, I mean the people that I’m with. I’ll receive comments like ‘that isn’t nice’ or ‘you shouldn’t say that’ or ‘that is rude’ or ‘you wouldn’t want people to talk about you.’

To which I invariably reply ‘It isn’t rude they have no idea what I’m saying and people talk about me all the time, and they should.’

Listen, I’m not mean spirited (mostly not) and do not seek to embarrass, harass, belittle, heckle, torment nor torture anyone and that is why my commentary is only for myself or those I’m speaking with and never for the target (unless they are friends, in which case they should know better and are free game).

As for other people talking about me, well, 98 percent of people are morons so who cares what they think.

I’d have loved to have been a spectator to the following:

1) The young man with the parachute pants on so tightly that not only is nothing lost to the imagination, but its borderline public indecency.

2) The college student that, while obviously thinking himself too cool for words, is also, apparently, too cool to watch where he is walking and falls out of a bus.

3) The football player cocky enough to disparage his opponent and then allow said opponent to make him look like a complete scrub.

These are but three instances in the many thousands of instances in my past where a good running commentary would have been much appreciated. … I wish James Earl Jones had been available.