Old Ladies

In the States, the place I'd see old ladies in my everyday life were at church, at the ATM, in the grocery store, and in the car. 

The problem was when you depended on them to finish before you did something. 

I'll just go ahead and say this evil thing that's been brewing in my mind: I think old ladies take excessive advantage of the common courtesies society offers them. 

We hold doors for them. 

We let them go first. 

We let them have the last one. 

How can you say no to an old lady? 

They behaved themselves in church, usually. 

The most common place to get annoyed with old ladies is on the road. 

As you're pulling into aparking lot, a little old blue-haired lady cuts you off because she either can't see over the steering wheel or she hasn't gotten her glasses prescription updated since Jimmy Carter was president. 

But you don't honk because it's an old lady. 

You can imagine her giving you a chocolate chip cookie and a shiny nickel and she makes you feel bad about having almost t-boned her car. 

Then, there's the line at the ATM... and the grocery store. 

You don't go to the store very often, so when you do, you have to buy a truckload. 

When you're standing in line with your cart, here comes Miss Daisy and she asks if she can break in line. 

All she's got in her hands is a can of Aqua Net, some Lipton's and a romance novel. 

You don't think she'll take long, so you let her. 

But you're badly mistaken. 

The clock grinds to a halt with every step of the operation. 

She decides to write a check. 

The adolescent looks up from his Smartphone and says "what's THAT?".

She proceeds to write what seems to be the Declaration of Independence. 

When the transaction finally comes to a close, Beavis tells her to have a nice day, and everyone behind her in line watches her meticulously put her reciept in her fake Coach wallet.  

But you don't complain because it's an old lady. 

In Madrid, you can be sitting on an empty bus and an old lady will ask to sit in the seat next to you, of all the other seats, obliging you to get up to let her in. 

But you don't make a comment because it's an old lady. 

I'll see them walking three abreast walking 2 MPH down a crowded sidewalk with their furs and their helmet hair oblivious that other people exist. 

One big problem is that if you're jogging coming at them head on, these old ladies can't decide which way to turn and they start to do the Harlem Shake. 

Being in Spain, the first thing that came into my head was to try to act like a bullfighter and signal them to one side. 

They usually follow instructions. 

That way they avoid getting covered in sweat and I avoid getting covered in fake animal hair. 

Poor things. 

They've been loving, patient and responsable mothers. 

Most of the time, they're just lonely and want some company. 

And their tranquility should probably remind us to slow down a little.

Curiously, old ladies treat me like gold. 

Probably because I love homemade food so much and I'm so vocal about it.