The next stop on my Saturday morning is the bakery that has great coffee. I go there nearly every day. This morning was a bit busy, but all of the staff there knows me. I got in line to pour my coffee right behind the two ladies I had opened the door for. But before I could step up to the pot, a tall witchy woman stepped in front of me and took her sweet time with a sample, mixing the right amount of cream and sugar before stepping away. She never even acknowledged I was there. Approaching the counter to pay she slid right in front of me again, this time with an order for four loaves of bread. I was there a while.
Later in the day I stood at the deli counter as three women cut in front of me before I could get salads for the barbeque. In my car I tried to back out of my space when a grey truck pulled up right behind me a stopped. The driver chatted with his girl, pulled out a camera and began to snap photos of another car. I honked. I revved my engine. They did not care. I lay on the horn and they finally look up to see me. “Hello” I wave with my finger, please move.
I blame these stuck up hypocritical hippie mothers who are so self-righteous that they cannot think of anyone else while wearing their summer furs over running suits in the Peoples Republic of Ann Arbor.
I blame these self-absorbed college students who live a reckless youth unknowing what privilege and advantage they hold.
I blame others and not myself. I am too nice of a person to speak up.
Driving home it occurs to me that I am too large of a person to ignore. Maybe so large that people look away? There are days when I don’t speak to anyone. My weekends of isolation are broken as I mumble my Monday morning hello’s at work or grumble the first words across a cell phone to friends.
Perhaps I am beginning to fade away. A single person of my age and gender blends into the background of suburban lifestyles easily overlooked and forgotten. What seems a short time ago you could not help but notice me. I was energetic and obnoxious. In these later years I do not offend and bite my tongue from ever speaking so I do not have to face the memory of misspeaking in my elderly years.