So I'm a little ashamed that THIS is going to be the topic of my first "real" blog entry, but I saw something really messed up tonight and I think that the only way that I can stop thinking about it is to write it out.
So here goes: I went to have my haircut today at a certain rock n roll barbershop. As it turned out, I had to wait a LONG time for the cut, since 3 people in front of me were waiting for color. But I didn't mind--I had one of the collections of Nick Hornby's Believer columns (which I had enough time to read cover to cover). And the guys felt bad for us having to wait for so long, so they kept us supplied with beer. And there was people watching--both inside and out on the street. So it was cool.
There was this other guy waiting at the same time I was. I didn't particularly like the looks of him. He seemed sort of, well, you know, snotty. And he was making a big show about how irritated he was about having to wait (listen dude, that's the way they rock it at Bishops. If you want an appointment, go to a damn SALON). Anyhoo, he went up to the desk and asked how much longer he had to wait, and he was told that it was going to be a bit longer, so he grabbed his coat and took off. I figured he was gone for good, but he returned a few minutes later, with a snack.
Now at this point I feel that I should warn you that you may be sort of disappointed about the "climax" of this story. Because it required too much explication, and the fact is, the thing I'm about to tell you (the thing that HAPPENED) isn't really worthy of the amount of explication that I've provided. This is the point in the story where, if I were telling this to Mikey J, he would be frantically nodding his head, and saying "right, right" and he might even be doing that weird get-on-with-it hand gesture.
So, here goes. This guy's snack was a bread product of some kind (like a roll?), and a relatively large chunk of cheese. Like maybe 8 or 10 ounces of cheese. Make a fist. He had THAT much cheese.
He had stripped the plastic off the cheese and he was, my hand to G--, eating this giant chunk of cheese like it was an apple. Just taking giant bites out of it. Like it was an apple. Which it was NOT. It was a large chunk of cheese.
I don't know what you think, but in MY America, we eat cheese in slices. Or maybe in small cubes that we pick up with toothpicks. We are not Vikings. Or Goths. Or Geats. We do not hunt giant woolly, tusked animals with clubs. Or drink mead. Or sleep on pelts. And we don't walk around in public eating fist-sized pieces of gouda.
(This has, by the way, trumped the last upsetting thing I saw someone doing with food--which was order an ONION bagel with STRAWBERRY cream cheese at 8 am. I mean, it violates the rule that states that you should restrict pairing savory bagels to savory or neutral cream cheeses and sweet bagels to sweet or neutral cream cheeses. And if THAT is too difficult to remember--just don't put strawberry cream cheese on anything. Ever. And onion bagels at 8 am. Is that necessary?)