Probably never see this sort of thing in Santa Cruz.
Later
03/29/06
Dinner includes a side of ignorance
COLUMN BY DEAN RUSSIN
If ignorance is bliss, allow me to introduce you to the happiest couple in the world.
Meet Pinky and Strapping Young Man, two members of the foul-mouthed generation that’s about to take over the world.
Since this is the sports section of your local newspaper, I have to make at least one sports reference for this to qualify as a sports-related story. I could go the route of former Daily Star sportswriter Ryan Lillis and simply write, "Jessica Laing — What a player!" to meet this requirement.
But since we’re deep into March Madness ... George Mason? In the Final Four?
This perfect match is at the front of the line at a local restaurant Monday while the rest of us mopes who still think tacos and fishsticks are an irresistible combination patiently wait.
Pinky, who is dressed in pink and is talking on her matching pink cell phone (how cute!), has one foot in the batter’s box. It’s her turn to order, but she’s arguing with some other knucklehead on her cell.
The cashier doesn’t exist in Pinky’s world, which also excludes the 10 people still standing in line and those fortunate enough to be sitting with a tray full of deep-fried goodness in front of them. There’s at least one child within earshot of Pinky, who apparently is the butt of a prank call from one of her friends.
Pinky finally hears the punchline from her friend, who I can only assume is a 911 operator with three calls on hold, then drops the loudest Letter-Between-E-and-G-Bomb in history to effectively express her relief.
Much like 11th-seeded George Mason making it past the Elite Eight, it’s time to pay attention.
"Awww, come on," I say at a slightly higher volume than normal, hoping that Pinky will realize this is neither the time nor the place for "Jerry Springer Uncut."
Pinky is in utter disbelief. How dare someone interrupt her conversation!
A few clean words are exchanged as both sides plead their cases, but Pinky reverts to her pre-thesaurus days and tells me to go four-letter myself.
So our conversation continues, much to the dismay of Strap. After asking me who I think I am — who I think I am! — Strap soon says I’m thisclose to getting punched in the face.
This is bliss at its finest, and it’s a trend that seems to be catching on with the teenage population these days.
Three days before this incident, I was sitting in a local pizzeria with my 3-year-old son when three teens — a girl and two boys — sat down in the booth behind us. Within a minute, I heard the girl use three profanities — for no reason in particular — while her escorts mumbled through mouthfuls of pizza.
The same can be heard in the stands at just about every high school game in the area, and more often than not, the biggest offenders are too young to vote.
Like those fat, little beetles that float around Damaschke Field during summer baseball games, it’s everywhere and there’s really nothing you can do about it to make it go away.
Still, there’s no bliss in simply ignoring it.
Dean Russin is the sports editor of The Daily Star. E-mail him at drussin@thedailystar.com.
