“Yeah! …Yeah!” the man said loudly into his phone. The rest of us sat quietly at the gate waiting for the plane to arrive, but not this asshole. A few passengers glanced up at him, then returned to their screens or books.

“Yeah….I’ll let you go now and get back to your gyro…or jy-ro…whatever they call them!” He burst into a loud laugh at his own stupid joke. What a moron. “Yeah, yeah…the lamb thing,” followed by more obnoxious, laughter so hard it had to be phony, then he ended the call.

The entire time he was talking, he paced back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the tarmack like a caged tiger. Sit down you asshole, and shut the fuck up. I thought to myself, and felt confident the rest of my fellow travelers within earshot were thinking the same thing. What a self-important prick. We’re all here — all subjected to your inane, loud conversation.

The man caught his own reflection in the sunny window and smoothed his hair with his free hand and sucked his teeth, then walked away and disappeared from sight down the concourse.

Almost instantly, you could feel the attention of the travelers seated in Gate C-2 shift to a young blonde woman in a baseball cap whose phone conversation now pierced the quiet like a dentist drill. “Look, I pay it off every single month…$14.50-something. I’ve been on the phone with the last guy for an hour. Here…” she said, pulling some folded paper from her bag. “It’s $14.53 and the charge was just Friday. I know! I need a receipt emailed to me!” Her voice rose in pitch and agitation.

$14 dollars. Who cares enough about 14 measly dollars to sit on the phone for an hour bitching? Yeah, she had a baseball cap on, but her carry-on luggage was Gucci and I recognized the Channel logo on her shoes. 

I thought about how much my own time was worth: how much money would drive me to make an hour-plus phone call like her? I settled on $100: I wouldn’t call and raise a fuss for a charge less than $100 — that was my cut-off point. I make about that an hour at work, so I know my time has value. I would guess her time didn’t, and the gaudy display of designer clothes and accessories was provided by her “daddy”. 

She held her phone out  in front of her face and gave a frustrated growl while stabbing the screen, her long painted nails clicking frantically.  

So much drama over 14 bucks. Bet she’s a treat to live with.

I’m not usually this irritable. But my feet were throbbing, my lower back ached…the week of traveling I was returning from had been amazing, but now I just wanted to be home. 

Morons like this just acted like this was their home and they could just behave without regard for those around them. 

The loud phone talkers. 

The coughers. 

The grinning-like-idiots parents, letting their toddler run free. Expecting everyone to just smile and see their ugly baby is as precious as they do.

The mouth breathers.

The talking-while-eating girl.

The socks with Crocs old man.

The woman in dress pants and sneakers.

The sloppy, dumpy woman in a stretched-out tee and fleece pajama pants.

When did this happen to us, as a country? Were we always this way and until now was I one of the unaware slobs, so consumed in my own world, my slovenly offenses bled out on others?