Tired of others’ rudeness? Join the masses

My husband and I recently visited a friend in another town. We stayed at a nice hotel where we knew we’d have good bedding and a relaxing atmosphere.

It turned out that the hotel was jumpin’ that weekend with some young girls’ soccer teams, there for a tournament. These nice girls, cute and fresh, thronged the lobby area, jabbering a mile a minute. They freely roamed the hotel, without apparent supervision. No sane adult guest would have ventured into the pool area. They were unintentionally loud; we had to ask the girls in the room next door to keep it down so we could sleep. They came to breakfast in pajamas. They were completely at home, even though they weren’t.

Hadn’t the parents and coaches briefed the teams on polite hotel behavior?

The excited soccer teams’ innocent discourtesy, however, is a mere cirrus wisp compared to the gathering thunderheads exhibited by more mature role models raining rudeness upon the hapless, collapsing umbrellas everywhere.

Such as the guy in the truck in front of me who opens his door to lean out and hawk a loogie. Oh, thanks so much. You have anointed my day.

Or the road-rager who tailgates me into a terrified lane change and then flips me the bird. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? So glad you got to the off-ramp four seconds before me.

Or the designer-clad woman in a department store, whom I accidentally brush as we pass, while distracted by a display. Before I can even draw breath to apologize, she coldly barks, “Excuse you!” Well, gee, now I don’t feel so sorry. Maybe I should have taken her and her Prada bag completely down.

Or the teens, even young adults, at the mall who practically mow me down instead of opening up their posse line for a mature woman. Gosh, don’t let me be in the way of your getting to the food court.

Or the 15 or so adults of all ages who troop into the mall while I hold the door open (originally for one person), without saying thank you or giving any acknowledgement. My lifelong desire to be a doorman has been satisfied.

Or the teen girl whose cell phone begins ringing during a moving church service memorial to Sept. 11 victims; instead of turning it off, she crouches down and proceeds to chat, utterly ruining a sacred moment. Her mother, next to her, does nothing. Oh the temptation of initiating some Toe Intervention.

Or the judgmental grump in the parking lot who accosts me over my temporary handicapped placard while I’m healing from a severe ankle injury. “You don’t look handicapped!” he snaps. Great day to you, too, sir.

It’s getting lonely for the mannered anymore.

After a few days of pondering, I’ve made a choice.

Why continue going nowhere with dwindling numbers on the sinking Courtesy Cruise? I’ve jumped ship and gone ashore. It’s a Survivor world, where niceties get Lost and egocentrism thrives. Yeah, sweetcakes – I’m joining The Others.

Blabbering loud inanities on my cell phone (with the disco ring tone that can be heard across town) annoys you? My boom-box car damages your house foundations? I let fly with a glob of phlegm while walking ahead of you? Allow a mall door to close just as I see you approach with bags and a stroller? Bite your head off for a mistake? This bothers you? Get a life.

Because I’ve got my diploma from the Sawyer/Simon Cowell Etiquette Academy. My black T-shirt and official Nickname Lexicon are in the mail and due any day.

I am my own American idol.