I'm sitting in a stylish, 1920's style bar, drinking a delicious cocktail, and thinking to myself:
I'm a bad person.
Now, don't think I'm making that statement to make you say that I'm not. I'm making that statement because in a nearby table, a group of three men are conversing about all kinds of things, and one of them - the one facing my direction so I hear everything he's saying loud and clear - is so cringe that I can't help but feel like I'm a bad person for feeling this cringe.
He's using the kind of slang that I find only white trash use.
He's swearing.
He has a punchable voice. He sounds both gay and like he thinks he's the most interesting person ever. (He probably also has a punchable face. I can't see that far though.)
He's doing 95 % of the speaking in the group of three.
He's making a big deal about how he has a personal trainer, how he'd like to live in Australia, and how he has friends in Korea. (I want to assume the North one, though I'm probably wrong.)
He's filling his sentences with every single cliche in the history of vocabulary.
His most annoying, high-pitched, loud, focus-breaking laugh stops me from solving my killer sudoku.
I could assume the best of him - that's he's actually gay and that he's dominating the conversation only because he wants to dissolve a hidden awkwardness between the other two that I can't see and that his voice is so loud only because the others are deaf.
But I don't. I genuinely assume he's a jerk.
Ergo, I'm a bad person.
And I get some twisted pleasure out of it.
RK
P.S. He just loudly announced that he's the only person in the country with a Korean wife. So that's that for the gay argument.
