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larry david moments

This one hasn’t happened yet but I had the thought this week and needed to get out a logical explanation so I can defend my actions when this happens.

I was at the movie theater this past week where I saw Safe House – pretty good movie, but not the point. When the people come on to tell you to turn off your phone and not to throw trash on the floor, they added an interesting thing I had never seen before. This phrase flashed across the screen:

“Please escort crying children to the nearest exit.”

Yahtzee! So the next time a child is crying for more than 10 seconds and I do not see the responsible adult escorting the rugrat to the door, I can take action right? The reason I bring this is two weeks before seeing Safe House, I went to see The Grey. A child cried for a good 2 minutes before their un-fit parent escorted them out of the theater.  They do not specify that you have to be the guardian of said crying child to take action, therefore I am assuming it is anyone’s responsibility for the greater good. It reminds me of airplanes – If you see a child who can’t put on the breathing mask, you do it for them. This is just if you see a kid who can’t keep their mouth shut, you move them.

Letting a child cry in the movie theatre is the same as leaving them alone somewhere – you are asking someone else to help them. You forfeit your right as a parent when you do a shitty job and ask good citizens like myself to step in. Like when Larry had to tell his girlfriend her child was gay – he was only doing what needed to be done and the parent had neglected to do:

 

Granted I am going to have to answer to the child’s guardian and likely law enforcement about my actions but I think these points will cover me.

1) The guardian was warned prior to the movie and chose to do nothing

2) If I am not allowed to remove the child from the theatre does that mean the guardian will be refunding my money?

3) Would it have been more acceptable to strike the child? I am taking the higher road here I feel and doing whats acceptable not needed.

I cannot wait for my next trip to the movies – a crying kid is going to be in the lobby faster than you can blink and everyone will applaud me – or I’ll be arrested. Only time will tell.

The Second Installment of Larry David Moments. 

Douche-Cuts Inc. 

what the hell?

My first Larry David moment was a few months back at a hair cutting place (I can’t call it a barber shop because its not -but its where I get my hair cut). I walked in and put my name in like I normally do – I don’t really care who cuts it because they use a set of clippers and you have to be a certified dumb ass to screw up buzzing someone’s head. About five minutes later, another guy walks in and requests one of the girls there to cut his hair – fairly normal habit I guess, I have no problem with a guy doing this.

This is where the Larry David moment begins: That girl is the next hair cutter available and they call this guy’s name…I think about keeping my mouth shut, maybe this is their policy….but then the logical part of my brain pipes up. This can’t be a policy – Its too irrational. I have to ask “What the hell do you think you’re doing“?

Their response is dumbfounded looks as to why I would be questioning this guy cutting me in line. I state my case that I was here first and regardless of this guy’s preference my hairs deserve to be cut before his. The woman tells me that because he requested a specific hair cutter, he was given the spot so he would not have to wait. My rebuttal seemed brilliant but didn’t matter to them – If I just put my name in I am requesting the next available person, so if this guy wants someone special to cut his hair, he should have to wait. I could understand if he had an existing appointment and checked in – then absolutely you have the right to jump me there…

It should be like a bakery or deli – the first person there gets the next available spot, there are no appointments set – because thats ANOTHER one of their policies, they don’t take appointments.

After 5 minutes of reasoning, I realized my logic did not apply to them. So I left – went to CVS, purchased clippers and attempted to cut my own hair. That idea was great at first until I proved to be a certified dumb ass and could not correctly buzz my own head. I have since given in and returned to Auschwitz Hair Cutting (not real name) praying that they don’t remember my questioning their methods; but, I know they talk about me when I leave about the stupid guy who actually thinks that just putting your name in gets you the next spot.

Well, I’ll show them - The next time I go into a deli I’m going to request someone specific cuts my turkey and see if I’m served next (I guarantee I won’t be and might be asked to leave) Then I’ll bring my findings back to the cutters of hair and explain how dumb the rest of the world knows they are.

That’ll be pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good.

The Elevator

Yesterday I was standing at the elevator to take it down two stories. Normally I am firmly against taking an elevator down but there isn’t one set of stairs that takes you the full way and I didn’t want to be inconvenienced by switching stairwells.

So I am waiting and about the same time the elevator comes, a man in a wheelchair comes to get in the elevator too. We both get in and I ask which floor — what a surprise — we’re both going to the ground floor. My brain tells me to shut up — I know I should take the ten second elevator ride in silence and not let what I think is an awkward situation become an actual awkward situation.

I can just feel him looking at me wondering why I needed to take the elevator down two stories. Does he know I’ve had a long day and on top of that a long week? No, he probably doesn’t care — just wants to know why the guy with perfectly capable legs is taking an elevator instead of the stairs. Looking back on it, I know he didn’t care but I couldn’t help but think that I needed to explain myself. It seems like an eternity. The doors have just closed and I have eight more seconds to keep my mouth shut without making this awkward.

Elevator starts to go down, the guilt over takes me and I have to open my mouth: “Did you know you have to take two different stairwells to get to the ground floor?” BOOM — I become a douchebag with one sentence. Of course he didn’t know that — why would he? Why did I have to open my mouth and say anything? I again have a dumbfounded stare back at me like, “You stupid asshole, of course I don’t know that. Why would you bring that up?”

Mind you, at this point we have only traveled one floor and I still have another few seconds of agony not to open my mouth again. Naturally, I pull out my phone to make it look like I am doing something important. Then it hits me, I use this elevator at least a few times a week. I am going to have to see this guy again.

Basically, for the next few weeks I will avoid the elevator with the hope that somehow this guy forgets ever seeing me — but I know our next meeting will be equally as awkward when I work as hard as Mike Tyson trying to spell to avoid eye contact.

At least I didn’t do this: