A Word From Mr. Sunshine

I usually don't use this blog to complain.  After all, I was voted Class Optimist in the Chicopee Comprehensive High School Class of 1987 Yearbook (You'll have to take my word for it, kids.  It was before the interwebs.) 

But recently I've been reading my friend Kim's blog, "Loathe Letters."  If you ever wondered how to turn bile and anger into creative and entertaning writing, check it out.  If no one's paying her for this, they should.  Her blog inspired me to address some people I see almost every day.  And in true blogger form, I can do it from the comfort of my kitchen table without fear of getting beat up.  So listen up.

Hey, guy who doesn't was his hands in the Men's room.  Stop it.  Wash your hands. Even my 7 year old knows to do this (sometimes.)  Even if you are the cleanest person in the world who's super- superior skin is germ-repellent.  Humor me and run some water over them. You don't even have to use soap (but you should.)

If you're on the phone (and face it, EVERYONE is,)  drive and walk to the right.  I'm in a hurry and I don't need you driving in the fast lane at 45mph and/or walking in front of me like you have an anvil tied to your leg.  It's been proven that we can't drive/walk at the same safety or speed while on the phone, so move to the right to finish what I'm sure is the world's most important phone call.

You're not the only one at the supermarket.  So stop parking your cart horizontally in the middle of the aisle while you shuffle cans around to save 3 cents.  Keep the aisle clear so the person with the oversized race car cart and misbehaved kids can get by.

A basic physics lesson for train riders:  If you're touching the person next to you, you're too close.  I'm not talking about the subway, where you sometimes have no choice. I'm talking about the commuter rail where you can move over 2 inches without poking your elbow and/or giant duffle bag into me (where are you going with a bag that big, anyway, hockey practice?)

And while I'm on the subject of the T, (that's Bostonese for subway for my out of town friends), I'd like to talk to the...ahem, people....who think you're supposed to get on a train before people get off: Seriously, am I wearing a Hogwarts invisible cloak? You see me getting off the train. Wait till I get off, then the doorway will be clear and you can walk right on. Why would you walk into me like I'm not there?  For some reason, people think is acceptable on a train, but if I did that on the street, it would start a fight.

Hey Comp Class of 1987, you may have gotten it wrong. Maybe you should have voted me "Most likely to write a blog filled with bile and anger." Deeeeep  breath.    Ok, I feel better now.