Ghoti get outta this place

Dear Ms. Post,

My home town has recently received an award of dubious distinction. One I’m not sure of which you would approve. And one that I as a native of the area understand why we’ve achieved such standing, but find this certain achievement to be yet another example of why I’m finding it more and more difficult to live here presently.

You see Ms. Post, Washington, DC is now third on the list of rudest city in the good old USA. Topped only by New York and Miami. That’s right even Beantowners are generally less rude than folk here inside the beltway. This is a fact that leaves me feeling both bemused and extremely sad. Mostly due to the fact that I’ve been watching people in this area get more and more jaded, cold and now rude over the past decade.

It’s a situation that has me feeling more and more each day that the time has come that I ghoti get outta here. I had a couple of interactions with fellow inhabitants of the building where I work yesterday that pretty much confirmed this fact for me.

The first happened as I was entering the building. I typically enter through the back door as it’s easier and less of a distance to walk from the lot where I park that is adjacent to my building. As I entered the building yesterday, I surfed in behind a guy who I see several times a week. Tho’ he’s shorter and stockier, he reminds me a great deal of MMRFRO. He typically has that familiar pained look on his face as so many do in DC, including the aforementioned, that lets one know that he’d rather not be forced into speaking with anyone.

As one walks through the corridor which leads from the backdoor to the elevator banks in this building there is a set of double doors, which is quite common for the kind of building where the offices of my company are located. The gentleman in question was walking through those doors just as I approached them. He held the door open just enough to keep it from slamming on me as I approached. As I always do when someone holds the door for me, I said “Thanks” and smiled. He of course shot me a look as if to say, “Why are you are you even speaking to me?”

I chuckled to myself as I stopped to wait for the service elevator and the gentleman in question continued onto the main lobby.

The other incident happened as I was leaving my building yesterday. Rather than take the elevator in the evening, I usually take the back staircase so that I can easily exit by the back door as well. I did as I typically do and when I got to the third floor landing a young woman came busting through the door. Thank God I had already turned the corner on the landing and was on my way down the next set of stairs rather than on the landing itself or she would have knocked me over. She proceeded to follow me down the stairs, hot on my heels, her heels clacking and echoing through the stairwell with each step. And though she was annoying the hell out of me, as I exited the stairwell, I held the door open for her to exit. As she did so, she literally turned her face to the side so as not to have to look at me. And a thank you for holding the door? I certainly didn’t get that from her.

Of course my first thought was WTF?

Oh but there’s more. As I was walking through the corridor that’s literally just big enough for two people to barely fit, she pushed her way around me, and didn’t even bother to attempt to apologize. I was floored.

Once I got outside I thought, it’s frikken time to get the hell out of this town.

As I walked to my vehicle, I considered this thought at greater length. It’s not just the higher than average concentration of rudeness in DC that has precipitated this sudden and deep feeling of wanderlust within me. More than anything it’s gotten to the point with me that I derive little or no joy from living in the this area anymore. And it’s not like I ever really have for that matter. I’ve stayed in DC because it’s my home town and my family is here. But other than that I could very easily just say AMF to this place and move on out.

Of course the question is why haven’t I?

I think that answer to that one is the all too familiar F word—fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, and perhaps even some fear of the fact that I might actually be able to find some happiness somewhere (anywhere) else than here.

So today I begin to work toward letting go of the fear. And start making the plan.

Give a big hug to Tennessee for me.