Old People

Living in South Florida, I find it necessary to vent about old people every once in awhile to keep my sanity and avoid "acting out". In the past few days, I've had a few run-ins that have precipitated one of these moments. I wasn't going to post about it, but Willard Scott sent me over the edge.

It all started Monday on the way home from work. I was merging with another lane of traffic, preparing to enter a toll booth line coming off the Turnpike. There was a SUV next to me. I slowed down to let them pass. They slowed down. I sped up to get past them. They sped up. Ridiculous. As I slowed to a crawl, they finally inched past me. I looked over to see an old woman in the driver's seat. She couldn't have been a day younger than 90. She was on her cellphone, fumbling around for change, and had a dog on her lap. Somehow, I had annoyed her with my defensive driving, and, despite all of her other distractions, she found the time to look at me and raise her hand with her palm facing up and an angry look on her face like I was an idiot. This was a slap in the face, coming from an mental patient with a dog on her lap and a cell phone stuck to her head. I didn't even know people that old had cell phones. Do they make buttons big enough for them to see? Outrageous.

Then, Tuesday on my way to work, I needed to stop for gas. This is already a painful situation, because gas is now just short of three dollars a gallon. For some reason, I needed to wait in line behind another car at one of the pumps. Of course, I picked the 1985 Cadillac Eldorado that probably has only 3000 miles on it. The 85-year-old guy fumbling with the gas pump was out on one of his Tuesday morning drives. I should have parked behind the RV filling up next to him, but chose to wait it out. As he filled the tank, I knew what was going to happen next. Sure enough, he replaced the pump and turned to walk to the cashier inside. So predictable. I knew he probably didn't trust the crazy credit card slot on the pump and had to do his business in person. Instead of pulling up to a parking spot, he started the painfully slow walk to the building. I clocked him at 100 feet an hour, because the building was about 100 feet away and it took him an hour to get there. Then, I watched through the window as he waited in line behind 8 or 9 migrant workers buying their Gatorade. I put happy music on in my car to find a happy place, but there was no such place. Finally, after my beard grew in and I was almost ready to apply for my own AARP card, he began walking back to his car. Unbelievable.

The final straw was yesterday as I arrived to work. I usually have the Today Show on the television in my office. Sure enough, Willard Scott popped up on screen and started congratulating people for reaching their 100th birthday. Normally, I'm impressed by such a feat but at that moment I could care less. Then, I heard Willard say "Joyce Polillo from Bangor, Maine is 100 years old today. She loves reading and she cannot be beaten at Scrabble."

What!!!!!

That is horseshit!

Quickly, I went to the Today Show's website and found the Willard Scott area. Here's what it says:

"Please send us the following information in writing three to four weeks in advance. We need the full names and addresses of those celebrating, how old they will be on which date and something personal about them."

Whoever sent in Joyce's announcement could have picked anything over the span of 100 years to represent "something personal about them." A hundred years of material and the best they can do is "cannot be beaten at Scrabble"! That's an outright lie. The directions on the website are clear. It doesn't say "Please tell us how old they will be on which date and then fabricate some ridiculous fantasy about them." That would throw everything out of whack. I can hear Willard Scott saying "Joe Smith is 100 years old today and likes to race unicorns. Shelly White is 100 years old and she once went fly-fishing with Bigfoot." This is an outrage.

I'm sure there are linguists or English professors who could easily handle Joyce in a game of Scrabble. In fact, I guarantee that I could triple-word-score her ass right back to the Harding administration. Joyce, if you're reading this, BRING IT ON. I will boggle your mind with my knowledge of words containing X, Q, Z, or Y. You got nuthin! Did you know that a "xyster" is a surgical instrument used to scrape bones? Have you ever used the word "quartzite" in a sentence? I will take you down, Joyce. You can use your silly words like glaucoma and osteoporosis, and I will tap dance all over your feeble mind and make you wish your relative never crowed about your supposed dominance on national television. What, some guy who knocked over a liquor store came to the nursing home to fulfill his community service requirement and you got lucky at a board game and beat him and now you think you're better than me? Here's a little secret Joyce: When your family visits you and you play Scrabble, they're letting you win. Yep, sorry to burst your bubble, but I've heard that some of the words you use aren't even words at all. News flash: boogadeeboo is not in the dictionary. I don't care what games you used to play with your grandkids. Your grandkids are now 65 years old. Loser.

Screw you, Joyce, and screw Smuckers.

Phew. I feel better.