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  • Writer's pictureMr. Jamoke

Everybody is Pissing Me Off

Just admit it! Just admit that you took my airpods.”….. “I want you to swear to god that you didn’t take my airpods. That you didn’t reach into the front pocket of my bag and take my airpods. Cause I know you did!”…. “You took them, didn’t you?


30 minutes of this shit. Thirty minutes of pointless yet relentless badgering echoed across the first class cabin. Any excitement I felt about my surprise upgrade drowned in the typhoon of accusations made by a bitchy mom toward her screw-up son. Listen lady, we all agree that your son took the airpods. A mere fleeting glance at your teenage son revealed everything we need to know. A straight-C student with no work ethic but enough parental support to not really need one. His future will revolve around cheap women, even cheaper booze, low credit scores, and asking you to help out with his child support payments. Nonetheless, this woman was having a conniption and shamelessly infuriating all 20 people within earshot. Let it go. Forget “first class”, showing any class would be nice. Nah, why act like a grown-up and set an example for your dunce son when you can lose your shit about a pair of earbuds and ruin everyone else’s day?


When I landed things didn’t get much better. I decided to stop by a coffee joint near the airport that has intrigued me for a while. As I approached the entrance, I saw that the open door was blocked by a table that had a sign on it. “Due to COVID we are asking our customers to order online and we will bring the coffee to you. Step 1: Go to www.XXXX.com and download our app. Step 2: Enter your payment information. Step 3: Enter your name: Step 4: Enter your email address. Step 5: Step away from the table and collect your order only after the Barista has called your name and left the area.


Can I get a cappuccino please.” I yelled at the barista who was all of 7 feet away.


“Did you read the sign?”


I did sir, it’s complicated and I don’t have all day. Plus, I’m right here and you already know what I want. I’ll leave the money on the table.”


Have to download the app, bro!”


First of all, if someone refers to you as “Sir” and you respond with “bro” – that alone warrants an ass kicking. Second, after two flights, a stressful layover and the airpod interrogation, my patience with people was, at this point, thinner than piss on a desert rock.


Are y’all trying to go out of business, chief!? And why on earth do you need my email to make coffee?


The baristas hesitated for about 10 seconds as they exchanged nervous looks.


“We won’t serve you unless you download the app.”


Now it was my move. What would be the classy thing to do, the first-class thing to do? 15-20 years ago, I would have come back at night with my posse of hooligans and egged the joint. Possibly thrown a watermelon through the window. Now I’m an adult though.


Pussies!” I yelled.


Low and behold though, my journey home had one last little irritating wrinkle. The Lyft driver who picked me up from the soon to be bankrupt coffee joint had the heat in his Ford Fiesta set at 92 degrees. It was brutal in there, it felt and sounded like 10 blow dryers blasting. Given that I live on top of a steep hill, I was concerned that the Fiesta’s engine wouldn’t be able to handle both hill and heat. I was also concerned about my behavior. I was clearly on tilt and I wanted to keep my cool (side note: I could keep these puns coming all day) and respect the driver’s climate preferences. Perhaps he just really likes it hot. Halfway up the hill though I witnessed something perplexing: The man’s bald head was streaming sweat like an open faucet. Sweat had pooled on to the top of his seat. He clearly was extremely uncomfortable.


At that point I had to ask: “Sir, I’m sorry but what’s with the heat? Can you turn it down a touch?”


Nah, man. COVID. That hot air blowing on you will kill any virus you try and breathe on me.”

……………


I told my buddy a few days ago that people are losing it. His response: “No, people have LOST it”. Spot on. Mr. Jamoke is also slipping. It has obviously been a crappy year for almost everyone. In the absence of any sort of nightlife, restaurant life or recreational activity, I’ll have to get creative in how I turn the page on 2020 and brighten my mood going into 2021. Luckily, I already have a plan: It involves the world’s most generous, raw omelet and a simple, hand-written note:


“Should have made me that cappuccino, BRO! Happy new year”

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