Stupid People Make My Life Longer

OK, in a grim era of war, recession, natural disasters and catfights on Project Runway, complaining about stupid people making life inconvenient seems petty.

But I'm going to do it anyway.

Dumb people are good at wasting everyone's time.

While crawling along at 5 mph in a long line of vehicles on Interstate 89 heading toward St. Albans last night, I started thinking about how stupid people make me waste huge chunks of my life.

I was cooling my heels on the Interstate because some lanes were closed, forcing us all into one lane northbound. If everybody was on the ball, that wouldn't be much of a problem. You'd get into the appropriate lane ahead of time, and everybody would get through at about 45 mph instead of the usual 65 mph. I can deal with that.

About 90 percent of us on the highway did just that. But it takes a few idiots to screw things up. The selfish and stupid among us roared past us in the lane that would be closed just ahead.  I could almost hear their thought process. "Why should I wait in line. Jersey Shore is coming on TV in ten minutes and I HAVE to be there to watch it. If I don't, I'll just DIE!"

I wish they would die.

So these pinheads cut into the open lane at the last minute, forcing everybody to hit the brakes.

That causes a chain reaction of braking cars behind, and pretty soon you have hundreds of cars moving more slowly than an arthritic grandmother carrying a Volkswagon on her back. All because a few morons think they are more entitled to get somewhere than everybody else.

You would NOT believe how much I was hoping that I'd find the drivers of these cars upside down in a ditch, up against the ledges, their cars in flames.

I was pleased as punch to see, behind me, drivers of two tractor trailers and a bus take matters into their own hands. Near the end of the line, they positioned their vehicles so nobody would pass and cause more of a problem. I owe the tractor trailer drivers and the bus driver a nice sixpack of beer. After they stop driving, of course.

The night before last, I made the mistake of stopping at a convenience store to pick up a few things on the way home from work. There was one parking spot left. But just as I was pulling in, the ditzy woman in the car opened her door, so I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting her.

Then she stood, in the rain, with the car door open, having a giggly conversation with the person in the car. She couldn't get out of the rain, out of my way to do that?

After an eternity, she moved, and I pulled in and parked. I found myself behind Ditz Girl at the cash register. She bought a 25 cent pack of gum, then pulled out her debit card to pay for it.  It didn't dawn on her that she needed the card until the clerk said "25 cents, please." That launched Ditz Woman into a search of her wallet to find the debit card. The search lasted about as long as the Great Depression.  By the time she found the damn thing, I was greatly depressed.

The clerk told her to slide her card. She looked up at him as if the clerk demanded she immediately solve all questions about interplanetary space. Which made sense, since the inside of Ditz Girl's head was obviously interplanetary space.

Finally, with that accomplished, the clerk told her to enter her PIN number. Another hard question! Why is life so full of hard questions! Like how am I going to chew the gum I just bought here and walk to the car at the same time?"

The clerk told her how to enter the PIN number. But she started to, and midway through, forgot how to do the job again. The clerk flashed me a look as if to say, "You are about to witness a murder." I flashed the clerk a look to say, "Not so fast, buddy, I got dibs on murdering Ditz Girl."

After a period that was as long and frustrating as this summer's Congressional debt ceiling debate, Ditz Girl finally figured out the PIN number puzzle and had her gum. It only took about ten minutes for her to figure out how to put the debit card back in her wallet, but I imagine that was a world record for her.

Finally, I bought my milk, soda, bread and the copious amounts of alcohol I suddenly decided I needed and left the store. But Ditz Girl was not done with me, no sir. As I was pulling out of my parking spot, she backed out of hers,  and stopped the car in front of me, boxing me in while she embarked on another giggly conversation with the passenger in her car.

There I sat, thinking, "Do I drink the beer I just bought, or do I smash all six bottles over her head?"  Just as I decided I would drink the beer, then smash the empty bottles over her head (Why be wasteful?) she finally moved.

Thus ended another long chapter of my life wasted by another person who was too dumb to be alive.

I bet you have dumb person stories too. Let's hear 'em. And be smart. Thanks.