By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

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 FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com.]

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