No one likes a rude person.

Even other rude people don't like rude people.

Back when I was 21 and serving

with the Marines, I had just come off a shift of guard duty and was looking

forward to the evening meal. I had been walking for four hours, my replacement

was late, and the truck that was to take me to the mess hall was also

late. In fact, the mess hall was nearly empty and closing down when I

arrived.

Irritated and famished, I grabbed

a tray and went through the line only to discover that a few veggies and

one lone barbecue chicken wing were all that remained. As I wearily sat

down at a nearby table, another Marine, who evidently considered himself

a tough guy, looked over my tray and said, "Hey, I've been wanting

another piece of chicken."

Slowly I looked up from the

plate and very quietly said, "Don't." Evidently, he took this

as a challenge and countered, "Or what?" as he reached for my

pitiful little chicken wing. No one likes a rude person.

When he jerked his hand back

from my tray, the chicken wing remained on the plate but my fork was sticking

out of the top of his bleeding hand. As he ran from the mess hall yelling

and cursing, presumably on the way to sick bay, I finished my meal and

my poor little chicken wing in peace. I got into a bit of trouble for

that rash act, but no one ever tried to take food off my tray without

asking again. Not even to this day.

It's my father's fault, I think.

My dad would not allow me to remain seated when a lady entered the room,

made sure I said, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir," to my

elders, and insisted that I give my seat on the bus if older men and women

were standing. If I ever drove up to a girl's house and blew the horn,

Dad assured me, my driving privileges would end forthwith. You didn't

sneeze without saying "Excuse me," and burping or other emissions

of toxic odoriferous substances in public were forbidden. We weren't rich

but we weren't allowed to be rude either.

Other rude and thoughtless

things, besides the theft of my food, bother me as well. The area in which

I live is full of people who play their car stereo loud enough to cause

deafness in people living in Valdosta.

Last week, a car pulled up

behind me at a traffic light and had the music so loud that the soft drink

in the cup holder next to me vibrated like the puddles of rainwater on

the first Jurassic Park film when the T-Rex was near. Putting my fingers

in my ears, I went to roll the windows up and discovered that they were

already up. The bass vibrations intruding violently into the van threatened

to shake my fillings out. The rear view mirror actually vibrated with

the beat. Rude. Just simply no-breeding, low-class rude.

There are a few other things

that cause me to look around for silverware. For example: People who talk

on cells phones when the movie is showing. Parents (or grandparents) who

allow their little darlings to scream, throw things, run wild, and be

generally obnoxious at restaurants, parks, church, or other public places

without taking them out. They think they are cute. They are wrong.

To continue: People who wear

obscene messages on T-shirts or have images on their vehicles of cartoon

characters urinating. People who drive in the left lane when they don't

intend to turn left. People black or white who use the so-called "N"

word. People who use the "F" word in public or any of the other

toilet mouth words, for that matter. All rude. Nobody likes rude.

A few Fridays ago, my wife

and I went to an early showing of "Planet of the Apes" on opening

day. I drove to the theater at noon to buy the tickets for the late afternoon

show, suspecting that the movie would be sold out, which, as it turned

out, was true. We arrived 45 minutes early, entered the theater, and were

directed to stand in line until the usher gave us the go-ahead to be seated.

There were already about 10 people in line when we arrived to take our

place and, within half an hour, the hallway was packed with people waiting

to get into the show. It was bad enough that an elderly couple (more elderly

than me anyway) decided to break in line about four people in front of

us. I just hate that.

But then, right before the

movie started, a couple in their late twenties or early thirties came

around the corner, saw the long line, and apparently decided that, unlike

the lesser mortals who arrived early to get in line, they didn't have

to go to the end of the line. In fact, they just stopped at a place that

put them almost first in line.

A few people in the back murmured

their displeasure, but the young couple either chose to ignore them or

didn't hear the complaints. I guess the fact that the young woman was

great with child gave her the impression that she was special somehow.

After all, they have special parking places in the shopping centers for

pregnant women so I guess she figured there should have been special "standing

spaces" for expectant women as well.

My wife seethed with indignation

while I glared silently. I was doing okay, however, until I heard the

woman say to her companion, "We have to leave as soon as the movie

is over. I have to work on my Sunday School lesson." The lady behind

me hissed, "I wish I knew which church she goes to so I could be

sure not to ever go there!"

All I could think, as the line

started to move, was, Where is a fork when you need one?

[Father David Epps is rector

of Christ the King Church in Peachtree City. He may be contacted at [email protected]

or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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