Okay, I can’t stress this enough, people: When you’re entering or exiting a building, be it a grocery store, a mall, a museum, a temple, a whorehouse, whatever it is … for the love of God and all that’s holy, once you are inside those motherFUCKing doors, MOVE!

I would run out of fingers and toes if I tried to count the amount of times I’ve been caught behind these ingress/egress retards. I know, I know, it’s just another symptom of “I’m the Center of the Universe” syndrome, but this transgression is so easily remedied. Try this: walk in and take two steps to the left. Or take two steps to the right. Or (radical as this may sound) KEEP WALKING!

Now I can’t claim complete innocence here. When the wily Doctor JL and I were in Las Vegas a couple of years ago, we went to the Bellagio hotel, and on the ceiling in the lobby there’s a magnificent menagerie of colorful stained glass that is breathtaking. So yeah, we walked in, and yeah, I was so enthralled by the sight of the glass that I stopped in my tracks right there in the doorway. But Judas Priest, at least I had an excuse! What’s so captivating when you walk into Wal-Mart?

And then there’s leaving. Okay, let’s apply a little logic to an everyday situation. Mrs. Sloth goes to Macy’s for the annual one-day sale. She browses for a few hours, looks at and fingers absolutely everything there is to look at and finger. She brings her items to the register, maxes out her credit card, and takes her bags. Okay, done deal. Mrs. Sloth has no further business at Macy’s, right? I mean, there’s nothing left to look at. There’s no more money to spend. Time to go, right? Oh, not if she’s in front of me it isn’t.

No, if she’s in front of me, it’s time to stop right in front of the door and s-l-o-w-l-y put her gloves on. (Or if it’s summer, her sunglasses.) Then a minute or two to rummage around for her cell phone to call her husband and tell him about all the wonderful things she bought. And, I don’t know, maybe a few more minutes to fix her lipstick. Oh dear God in heaven would you just MOVE!

And to all you soccer moms out there who INSIST on bringing all of your whining brats with you wherever you go, how about this: make sure they’re all accounted for and get them ready to go outside BEFORE YOU GET TO THE DOOR! Jesus Christ, the soccer moms are the worst. “Courteney, where’s your sister? Amber, put on your hat. Montana, where’s your other mitten? Kiersten, park the shopping cart SIDEWAYS so no one can get by while mommy finds the keys to the mini-van.” AAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!!!!

In closing, dear friends, all I ask is that you be mindful that there are people out there who just want to come in, or just want to go out. Please … let them.

© 2004 Crankypants