Mean Streets

<p>Ten blocks later I realized that I had just encountered one of the more comical exhibits of rude behavior. My first clue was seeing the same street for the fifth time, after following the directions of The New Orleans Police Department (those heroes that serve and protect us daily) Those people that we are taught as children to trust had just given me false direction for giggles. Angry and disappointed I gathered what pride and strength I had left and turned my path to the opposite and correct direction and decided to harden myself to the rudeness the Big Easy had offered. Not surprisingly that wasn&#39;t going to be the end of my forced training for the field of proctology.<br><br>On a different day as I was rushing out of my place of employment for the bus, I questioned a local bystander as to the time of the next arriving bus was estimated to be, she assured me that one was to be arriving shortly. Two hours and five cigarettes later I wearily boarded the bus as I was informed that not only was the bus on time, but because the bus was such a popular bus everyone knew that it&#39;s post Katrina route was severely delayed. Once more I fell into the &quot;Hands of an Angry Local&quot;. As I tried my best to put my mean face on I asked the bus driver who had a watch on what time it was so that I knew exactly how behind I was, she informed me that she didn&#39;t have the time. What was this? Was this a race issue? Was this day a local vs. tourist day?<br><br>In the days following I realized that it wasn&#39;t just that day, that the rudeness, ranging from not saying &quot;Bless you&quot; after a sneeze to denying me the time, was an ongoing event. I was discussing my living arrangements in my sociology class, when a boy in the back insinuated that I was lying about living in the crime infested streets of the uptown side of the seventeenth ward and assured the class that I roamed no more than the cul-de-sacs of Lakeview. As some people would take being mistaken for a rich upper class person as a compliment, I took it offensively because I do live in a economically challenged area, and for that to be mocked or poked fun at by someone who more than likely doesn&#39;t have the courage to spend the day hours were I live, was insulting. Why would a stranger take the time to be rude on such a non controversial subject? Over the course of a few weeks my country bunkin&#39;, raised in the sticks, no city knowledge having self, was constantly questioning if my location here in the city of hope was the best idea.( I am from 85 miles&nbsp;southwest of New Orleans)&nbsp;I was always so kind and generous and tried my best to be politically correct (unlike a couple of fellow carnival goers, who rudely threw the magnet of Sherriff Harry Le into the open window of the passing Sherriff&#39;s car, and belligerently yelled &quot;You can keep it, we don&#39;t like him&quot;). I often let elderly people have my seat on the bus, and helped them cross the street. I gave needy people cigarettes and gave the peddlers in The quarter their desperately needed dollar. I just didn&#39;t understand why Karma wasn&#39;t returning positive behaviors.<br><br>I also observed that some people didn&#39;t endure rude behavior. Certain people always knew what time it was, and was always blessed after a sneeze. Sometimes it seemed as if I were being singled out. I couldn&#39;t figure out if it was racial or if I had &quot;tourist&quot; stamped to my forehead and was unaware.<br>Then I realized that maybe it takes a certain type of person to fall victim to rude behavior. I then reached the obvious conclusion that I must be that type of person! I had fallen victim to the increasingly rude population, too many times to count, or bypass. It was my turn! The very next time someone asked me for change for a dollar I politely said &quot;nope sorry&quot; as I walked in their sight to the vending machine a kindly inserted my change for a dollar for a soda that I didn&#39;t even want. I had an epiphany. It could be possible that rudeness could be a cycle.<br>From your own neighbors poisoning your cat who sleeps on the hood of their car (leaving those dreadfully cute paw prints behind) to pick pockets on the bus, maybe the comradery that our preceding generations enjoyed has fallen to non existence because of the horrors the world holds in today&#39;s time. Maybe rudeness is being categorized with crime, therefore making it difficult to open ourselves up to enjoy our community out of fear of becoming a victim of a crime; and the cycle is going to continue as long as the crime rate increases.<br><br>Even at the end of my observation and the period of time it took to inspire an essay, I am still confused. Is rudeness a matter of opinion. Is it the way we perceive things as an individual. Is it a fact that nowadays people are ruder than our parents&#39; or grandparents&#39; generation ? Is it possible that we allow ourselves to be treated in such a manor and are there people who demand a certain amount of respect that we undoubtedly give, and if we do give it is it out of fear or home teachings? As I glance down at my watch I grin as I wonder which person I can deny the time to and with all of these questions running through my head one logical conclusion has risen, we might all be better off if we smiled until given reason to frown. </p>