White shirt guy, you’re not playing tennis

Last night, while riding the subway home, I happened to be sitting across from a man roughly my age, which is 25 plus 24 months, and he was such a ridiculous human being that I just had to take out my phone and write down a description of him. This is what I wrote:

The man sitting across from me is wearing white mesh shorts with a white striped polo shirt that says H2O. Oh, and white sneakers. It doesn’t help that he has super blond hair artfully done up in one of those Justin Bieber styles that’s meant to convey stylish nonchalance, even though it obviously took hours. I hate him. He’s sitting with his legs spread wide apart, big feet firmly planted on the ground. He’s probably going to scratch himself soon. He’s not reading a book because duh. He has the stubble of someone who hasn’t shaved in days, but you know he’s grooming that facial hair. Now he glances at his Rolex.

Then, I started thinking about how I strongly dislike so many strangers in general. For example, tourists. I live in New York, where tourists are the worst, but I can imagine they’re pretty bad in other cities, too. As a person who lives in New York (I’m not allowed to call myself a New Yorker yet, because I haven’t lived here for ten years), I avoid Times Square like the plague. But sometimes it’s unavoidable, like when I have to take the bus from Port Authority. These people stand in the middle of the sidewalks with their cameras taking pictures of the M&M store, because they’re never seen an M&M before, or a billboard, because they’ve never seen an ad before, and I have to walk around them because they’ve never used sidewalks before, and Sweet Moses it’s so annoying.

But people who live in New York are also the worst. Everybody is the worst here.

So I’m looking at this as an outlet for my rage about people I don’t know. Do you hate people you’ve never met, too? If so, let’s be friends.

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