Time for the Rinse Cycle!

What happened to keeping personal things personal? I don’t remember getting the memo that made it mandatory to expose every flaw, every idiosyncrasy, every single aspect of private information to anyone and everyone. Is our society so bored with their own lives (or for that matter, drowning so deep in their own problems) that it’s better to pay more attention to everything outside our own circle of reality?

Am I the only one who’s not just completely exhausted about hearing anything that has the slightest thing to do with Brittany, Paris, Lindsay, Brad, Angelina, Ben, Jennifer, Rosie, the Donald or anyone else who graces the pages of People, US Weekly, InTouch, the Star or any of the other rags that are raking in billions every week? When I’m working, you can’t imagine how many copies of these magazines are collected after every flight, most of which its original reader paid full cover price at the airport newsstands.

If it isn’t bad enough to be overexposed to all these idiots who are making a killing just being seen in public, or just misbehaving in public, now us common folk are starting to get into the act. Now we have YouTube, MySpace, TMZ and a host of others where the average Joe can become a headline. I suppose I am somewhat guilty just writing a blog to expose my inner feelings and thoughts. So I certainly don’t want to be accused of being hypocritical here. But for myself, even here, there are limitations to what I feel are appropriate to reveal. For others, though, there are no boundaries – it’s simply a natural, normal extension of what their audience expects.

I was the unfortunate victim of this new “normal” just the other day.

I had gone to Johnny Rockets for a late lunch. It was after 3 p.m. and there was only one other patron in the entire place. I love being in places like this when I’m feeling the need to just unwind, think deeply and just chill. It’s nice sometimes to be simply anonymous and enjoy a meal without all the droning and clamor of a completely full restaurant where you can’t even hear yourself speak to the person next to you.

I was in the final moments of my silent and relaxing meal when my server—a tall, thin twenty-something—approached me to ask if I needed anything more. I politely declined and he proceeded to set my tab on the table. There was a slight, uncomfortable pause as he stood there, watching me eat the last couple of bites of my hamburger. I looked up at him and then he asked me, “How are you doing today?”

“Actually, I'm doing well, thank you,” I replied, somewhat awkwardly.

“Well, I’ve just had the absolute worst day of my life,” he offered, unprompted.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it gets better.” I said to him, hoping that this concluded this strange exchange. Sorry, no such luck.

“I don’t really know how it can,” he continued. “Last night, my wife and I had a fight and I decided to leave to get a cigar. I was in my sleep pants and sandals is all. I walked down to the 7-eleven store. When I got back, she had locked the door and I didn’t have my key…” (I’m starting to feel my skin crawl). “…and I was banging on the door and she wouldn’t let me in…” (Does anyone have any Pepcid A/C or Tums?) “…and so I decided to break the door down, and she screamed and decided to call the cops…” (Oh, look at the time…I really need to get going!) “…and they cuffed me and took me down to the station…” (Can anyone call my cell phone? A bill collector, perhaps? I’ll talk to a wrong number, even…anyone! PLEASE!!!) “…wanted to charge me with domestic abuse…do I look like a violent guy to you? Of course I’m not (no space there to actually answer the guy—not that I really wanted to at this point). I’ve been with is girl for more than…” (La, la, la, la, la…I’m not listening, but you keep talking…la, la, la, la, la…) “…and so now I have to come up with the rest of my bail money and she like doesn’t even care…”

At this point, I grabbed my wallet, handed him some cash to cover the ticket and a small tip (come on guys, I didn’t ASK to be entertained in this way…I can watch the soaps anytime!), excused myself from the table and made a beeline for the front door. As I’m getting through the door, I hear the obligatory “have a nice day” from this guy. Are you kidding me??!!

Now that this guy has done his dirty laundry all over my lunch, does anyone have a quarter for the rinse cycle? I REALLY need a shower! Blech!