Story 25 of 52

By M. Snarky

They are angry when they walk,
tuning out the ambient voice of the city,
tuning out the world,
with their portable electronics,
that they cram into their ears,
or clamp over their heads,
which makes it look as if,
they are wearing earmuffs,
even in one-hundred-degree weather,
filling their heads with,
whatever echo chamber they have chosen,
one that reinforces their beliefs,
or their lack of belief,
and with complete indifference,
to the others around them,
never saying hello or hello back,
to the friendly passersby,
but always ready to shout,
at the guy on the bicycle,
who was yelling out to them, lookout!
as they step off the curb and into the crosswalk,
often against the traffic signal.

They are angry when they drive,
on the boulevard, on the highway, and on the interstate,
speeding and tailgating,
and running red lights,
and cutting people off,
while they smoke their dope and pop their pills,
and sometimes they kill people,
because they felt wronged by the person,
that flipped them off because of their reckless driving,
or who were actually driving the speed limit,
or just because they are running behind schedule,
and in a hurry to pick up their children from school,
or to pick up their Shih Tzu at the groomer before they close shop,
or to get to their therapists office on time,
to work on that anger problem.

They are angry at the supermarket,
often acting like the drivers,
grabby, sullen, and impatient,
as you take the time to check the ripeness of a watermelon,
or checking the expiration date on a piece of meat,
or checking the milk carton,
to see if you recognize,
the missing child printed on it,
or writing out a check for your groceries,
or ordering a sandwich at the deli counter,
and they are often guilty of blocking an aisle,
and they get all bent out of shape,
when you politely ask them to move their cart,
as if the request was the equivalent,
of asking them,
to move a mountain,
and they are often guilty of having,
more than fifteen items in the express checkout line,
because they are selfish, inconsiderate jerks.

They are angry at the airport,
which should be a happy place,
because they are taking a trip somewhere,
and they argue with the attendant checking in their bags,
who needs to charge an extra fee,
because their bag is overweight,
much like themselves,
and they argue with the TSA when they try to get through security,
with more than 3.4-ounces of anything,
like their ridiculous 32-ounce Stanley tumbler that is full of water,
or perhaps vodka,
that they have to dump out,
and they get surly with their fellow passengers who hold up the line,
to take all of 5-seconds,
to put their carry-on into the overhead bin.

All of these angry men and women,
walking and driving and shopping and traveling,
make this a dangerous city to live in,
because it is never certain what will make them snap,
or when they will snap,
but when they do,
you will hear about the insanity on the local evening news,
who will get the facts of the story mostly right,
or on the social media platforms,
where facts are apparently situational,
and often substituted for belief,
or conspiracies,
and you will see ten different storylines,
from ten different influencers,
about the exact same event,
the majority of which are opinions,
and not actual news,
and certainly not actual journalism.

I have decided not to get caught up in it,
caught up in the urban-borne anger of the others,
the anger bubbling just below the surface,
the anger that is ready to be unleashed,
at the mere whiff,
of an inconvenience,
or a perceived disrespect,
but will instead remind myself,
that there are happy people,
somewhere in this city,
that there are kind people,
somewhere in this city,
that there are good people,
somewhere in this city,
but they all must be sought out,
because they are nowhere in plain sight.

Instagram: @m.snarky
Blog: https://msnarky.com
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