On rudeness

I love to travel. For some inexplicable reason, I've always liked airports and train stations. I like using public transportation; I like flying as opposed to driving. I like staying in hotels, eating in restaurants, seeing the sights (sites?).

However, traveling means dealing with people. And some people, as we all know, are jackasses. It's just how it is. For example:

In line at the Houston airport (I refuse to say its official name, as it's named after a president. The one before Clinton, whose son currently occupies the White House. Idiots): The check-in line for Continental was long. Very long. We were looking for the end of the elite line, and it was long enough - the regular check-in line was out the door. But it was spring break, and we were plenty early for our 10.30 a.m. flight. The guy behind us in line asked the Continental woman: We have a 9.30 flight. Can we move ahead? It's spring break rush, sir, she answered. Well, sometimes you let people do that, he responded; we have a 9.30 flight. Sir, she said again, it's spring break rush. I would have to ask all these people in front of you to let you move ahead. Sometimes you let people do that, he mumbled.

For the record, I would not have let him move ahead. Who hasn't heard about long lines at airports these days? Two hours before a domestic flight, they say. Lines are long. Be prepared. Liquids in a Ziploc bag. Shoes off. (Where have you people been?) Why should I let him move ahead when he came late? Too bad. I mean, maybe if he were going to miss his flight, but he got through.

At the National Archives: The historic documents are lined up around the perimeter of the rotunda. You have to queue up, go around the room in order to see everything. Which most people do. We got up nearly to the Declaration of Independence, and some people come up behind us, try to squeeze in. The line's back there, I said. They told us we didn't have to wait in line, the woman said. Well, you need to have a little respect for those who are waiting in line, I said. Which happened to be the other 50 people behind me - why should these people get to push ahead of all those other people who patiently waited the 15 minutes to see the displays? Why is their time somehow more valuable than the rest of ours?

On the return flight: The 8-year-old reaches down to get something out of her backpack - stowed neatly under the seat in front of her, per airline regulations - and the woman in front of her whips around to complain that she is bumping her seat. Not the first time on this trip; every time Sylvia makes a move and bumps the seat, she turns around to complain. I'm sorry, I said, she's just getting something out of her backpack. Well, she says, she keeps doing it. I'm sorry, I said again. She keeps on: You know, I think I'm being very patient. She's only 8, I said. She's trying. She says something again, and I can't hear her very well, but her point is, do something with your kid. She's trying, I said again. She's 8. She says something yet again, and finally I said, What do you want me to tell her? She finally turns around, and I told Sylvia to try not to knock into her seat.

And I'm thinking, you know, if you didn't want to be jostled around, you should have purchased a seat in first class. Here in coach, these things happen. Travel isn't always easy and convenient. Now that we are no longer part of the jet-set elite, sometimes lines are long, things are crowded. (Though I could point out that we do have Continental Elite status - it gets you the short line for check in, security and boarding - and I have to say, it is nice ...) Every time the people behind me got up out of their seats, they pulled on my seat as they rested their arms there. And you know what? There was nowhere else for them to put their arms. So I just dealt with it - it was momentary, not a big deal. The guy in front of me reclined his seat into my knees. You just have to suck it up and stay calm.

Patience. A sense of humility. A little compassion for others. It goes a long way.