Chivalry? On its Death Bed.

On my way home from work last week, I somehow ended up on the sidewalk on Broadway, as opposed to the road, which I usually take to avoid the inevitable football-style shoulder check all the way home.

To make matters worse on this day, I was not only on the sidewalk, but caught in the congestion of a narrow-to-begin-with stretch of sidewalk, that is littered on one side with vendors selling “books” that they wrote, black market DVD’s, and perfume that was mixed in a bathtub. On the other side, are the doors to Chipotle (always opening and closing as people around here (as I referenced before) think Chipotle is the shit), Aerosoles (where I have considered buying comfortable shoes that I need) and Nine West (where I usually end up buying uncomfortable shoes that I don’t need). Needless to say, the sidewalk is big enough for two lanes of foot traffic, tops, and is at a standstill during rush hour. Whenever I take that route, I feel like I’m waiting in line to go home.

Ahead of me, I see a parade of “street vendors in motion”. Just in case you don’t know what I’m referring to, I’m referring to vendors who have packed up all of their stuff: goods, table, chairs, racks to hang jewelry, etc., dumped it haphazardly onto something that has wheels, and who then disappear behind all the crap on wheels as they push their carts down the sidewalk. For a year, I’ve had bones with these guys. Not only are these ‘carts’ precariously packed, and teetering on the verge of collapsing onto innocent passer-bys, but they always have sharp, pointy corners jutting out, and a weight that is far too great for the vendor to control.

I’ve had to dive – literally dive – out of the path of several of these guys, as being impaled by a street vendor’s table leg is not how I’d prefer meet my maker.

Sure enough, the parade ahead of me is out of control, and people are diving out of the way. The woman in front of me has nowhere to go, as she is jammed up against the open door of Aerosoles to her right, and confined by the crowd to her left. I watched the lead vendor’s cart hit her, and proceeded to scrape her left side while pinning her between the door and the cart – she is screaming bloody murder – he is still pushing the cart. This little shit – and I mean that. This guy was a little shit – peers out from behind the cart, smiling. The woman is screaming, and here he is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. No one is stopping, and no one is doing anything. Men are squeezing by and continuing on. I am horrified.

The Little Shit says to the woman (as she’s still lodged) “Its your fault, Lady. Its your fault”, still smiling. I would have liked to have have killed him. Slowly. Instead, I helped push the cart off of her, and stayed – hoping to throw at least one punch.

Long story short, this guy had absolutely no regard for her, or for anyone else. He ran this woman down – could have seriously injured her – and smiled about it, telling her that it was her fault. It wasn’t until after she threatened to call the cops, and I stepped in as a witness, did he apologize. Little Shit.

But even aside from his gastly behavior - people, (men!) - respective looking people in suits who appear to have not been raised in a barn, but have just come from an important job - a job in which they landed after of several years of higher education…walked by.

Although seriously alarmed, I let this instance slide.

Then last night after work, I needed to go uptown, so I braved the rush hour subway - which I hardly ever do. The chaos of this subway system at 5:30pm is mind-blowing, but at least down here, it’s the start of the line, so there’s a slight chance for a seat if you’re quick. I, was not. Neither, incidentally, was the very pregnant woman who entered the car right after me. And when I say pregnant, I mean, the fact that she did not give birth between Wall Street and the Brooklyn Bridge was a Baby Jesus miracle. Please guess how many seated men offered her their seat.

Not one. My heart sank, as I have an unrealistically optimistic view of mankind, and this was the perfect opportunity to be proven right. I was wrong. This very uncomfortable woman was still standing when I got off 20 minutes later.

When we entered the train, it was empty enough for everyone to see everyone else get on. I’d say that for every female on the train, there were 4 men. I saw people notice her. And then I watched them pretend that they didn’t.

How is it possible that not so long ago – in the grand scheme of things – men threw their coats into puddles so that a woman would avoid getting her shoes wet or muddy? A woman never walked on the car side of the sidewalk, a woman never got up from a table alone, and men stood – even if their were empty seats – in order for a woman (any woman) to sit. Heck, even I remember the days when a man wouldn’t dare to let a door slam in a woman’s face.

Has the female population shot themselves in the foot? With all this ‘equal rights’ business, have we given the impression that common courtesy is null and void? I mean, I hold doors for men, shouldn’t they show me the same type of respect?

Until recently, I shared a floor of my office building with a man who would swear, burp, fart (though never audibly – which is worse!) and even peed with the door open TWICE. On what planet did he think that that was:

A) appropriate behavior for a creature that has evolved past the mental capacity of a monkey
B) acceptable work-place etiquette
C) something one should ever do in the presence of a woman – let alone a woman you hardly know
D) a way to avoid finding rat poison in his coffee

Mind you, this man has a Mother, a wife, and a daughter. Also mind you, he no longer has a job.

But Dudes, we all have Mothers. Would you really not hold a door for her?

So, Gentlemen - and even Ladies, the next time you see a rouge street vendor mow down a woman on the sidewalk, a pregnant woman standing on a train, or a bathroom door ajar when you have to pee, please for the love of your Mother, remember who really wears the pants around here – and bring chivalry back.