But for the grace of God, so walk an asshole

A few months ago, I was making my usual morning trek down Akers Mill Road to the office. As I passed by the apartment complex with the big wind mill, I noticed a man crouching in the weeds behind the guardrail. He was looking back and forth quickly like a kid new to crossing the street. He had on an orange toboggan and his breath blew smoky into the chilly air.

“Holy shit, that guy is taking a shit!” I yelled in amusement.

I giggled like a school kid for the next few minutes and made a mental note to share the story with my co-workers. “They are gonna love this” I said to myself confidentially. Soon, I wheeled my car into its usual spot on deck F, and settled into my cube for another exciting day of programming. My phone rang. The caller id told me it was D, making her standard, “did you make it into work alright” call.

“Hey D”
“Hey, I guess you made it in alright this morning.”
“Yup, only took me two hours.”
“God I don’t know how you do it”
“Got to keep that money coming in, got to keep Ruffy in the latest dog fashions”
“Yes, he is a lovely lad”
“Oh wait a minute!” “You won’t believe what I saw this morning” “Some guy was taking a shit on the side of the road in broad daylight!” I said anticipating immense laughter.
“Awww poor man.” she said with concern in her voice.

Then all of the sudden it hit me. I was an asshole. What I thought was so amusing, was really sad and human. D’s three word sentence cleared up my perception like newspaper and vinegar clean glass.

“Gotta go D, I need to eat something”
“What are you having?”
“Crow, I think” and I hung up the phone.

That was not the first time that D reminded me that I was not as nice a guy as I like to think I am. Once while going to the Marietta Fair, D and I found ourselves stuck behind one of those drivers that rbutler refers to as dumbass donkey wagons. Whoever was driving that day chose to speed up and brake at unpredictable intervals. Even Bo and Luke Duke could not have passed this confused and elderly pair. Finally, after miles of following these hayseeds, a space opened up and I passed them like Speed Racer hot on the trail of Racer X. As if to signal my victorious lead, I gave them a good strong blast of my horn and a hearty, “FUCK YOU, FUCK STICKS!”

Dolly was horrified.

“They were lost GS3”
“How can you be mad at someone for being lost?”

Once again, D took all of the wind out of my sail. She was right. What kind of asshole yells at someone for being lost? I drove on to the fair, feeling a bit embarrassed about my behavior. Being nice is not easy. It takes constant vigilance. The smallest distraction and the wolves slip through the door.