I don’t know whether it’s because I stopped drinking coffee a few months ago, or passed the half-century mark a few months earlier, but nothing seems to bother me much anymore. Not that I just let everything slide, but in dealing with obnoxious people or situations I’ve become a lot more mellow. What’s the point of getting all in a lather anyway? In most cases where you get all pissed off at someone or something, there two things at work: the situation and your reaction to it. Only one of those is entirely in your control.
Nevertheless, there is something to be said about venting, in real life or right here. So here goes. Thank you, Deutschland über Elvis, he of the carefully worded, well-researched and always entertaining posts on matters personal and cultural: may the third annual International Day to Bite Me be the success it deserves to be.
To the driver who honked and brayed at me from his rolled-down window because I was cycling with the traffic on the road instead of dodging pedestrians, spaced-out shoppers, dogshit and various obstructions found all too often on Hamburg’s laughably inadequate cycling path “network” – BITE ME! Where the hell did you get your license, anyway? It’s legal to ride on the road unless there’s a circular blue sign with a bike on it telling you otherwise.
To the pedestrian who yelled at me because I wasn’t on the cycling path but on the sidewalk because the cycling path is covered in tons of slippery grit left over from Hamburg’s spectacular failure to remove the December snows, not to mention the piles of filth left over from New Year’s Eve fireworks mayhem: BITE ME!
To the millions of brain-addled Germans who in an annual three-day orgy of mindless, wasteful consumerism spend upwards of 120 million frickin’ euros on fireworks for New Year’s leaving a heaving mess behind for weeks, months and years afterward – they NEVER clean it all up: BITE ME!
To the driver who assumed I was a jobless bum simply because I was cycling at noontime on a weekday: don’t you know some of us work shifts, full-time? BITE ME!
To the grocery store nitwit who feels it’s his duty to tell me to put the items back in an orderly fashion on the shelf because “es gehört dazu” – BITE ME! Do you have a cellphone? Next time you see a federal crime in process, call a cop!
To the awful, pinched-faced cow supervising security at Gatwick Airport: lose the psycho bullshit! Yes, your minions discovered a battery-powered iPod charger in my hand luggage and they – in their ignorance of modern consumer technology – have every right to take every soiled piece of underwear out to inspect, rifle through every book, test every cranny for explosives and take apart and run the charger through a scanner a third time, but please: don’t stare at me for minutes on end while assuming some sort of accusatory tone when you ask me the routine questions. Oh, and I almost forgot: BITE ME!