The Lost Code

For me, Thanksgiving break means movies. Of course, I always look forward to the food, especially since my brother and his new wife are chefs, but nothing spells Thanksgiving like a movie marathon.

For some random reason, the last film I watched was The Last Samurai. I won't go into the details of what I think about the movie (I both love and loathe it), but I will say that I have always, even as a child, had a fascination with Samurais. Their honor code, in particular, has always stood out to me. To live based on honor, now that is truly admirable.

With the movie on my mind, I prepared to return to D.C. Having done the trip numerous times before, I knew this would be a harrowing task. The Chinatown-to-Chinatown buses that travel from New York to D.C. are always quite the test to patience and personality.

I stood in the line, over an hour early to assure myself a place on the bus (even though I had previously bought my ticket online), I am a Chinatown-bus expert. And with my knowledge, I know tickets mean nothing.

Let me tell you why. As soon as the bus is in sight, people begin to push and cut the line, and hold up dollar bills in order to buy themselves a place on the sold-out bus at the cost of those who planned ahead.

It does not matter that the screaming manager pleads that everyone remain in=line, and that only people with tickets advance. On this battlefield, there are no rules of war.

Naturally, as soon as the bus pulled up, the fight began. A swarm of people forced themselves towards the small bus entrance, luggage was thrown over heads, used to push people, and into the baggage compartment.

Even a flock of pigeons joined the battle, as a woman threw her french fries onto the pavement in her scramble to get on the bus. Amidst the arguing people and frenzy of curses, a man began to rant on the unfairness of giving people with tickets priority.

Of course, all this mayhem could have been avoided if people actually stayed in-line, or at least respected the people who bought a ticket, as you are supposed to do. Apparently, however, acknowledging the fact that the multitude of people at the front of the line actually gained their place for a reason, is not a thing most people consider. Such decent rules of conduct are no longer apply.

The Bus ride wasn't much better. More of the same, people yelled and swore, and a man played his music out loud. Again, I ask, when did the simple act of respecting those around you become disregarded?

Nothing, however, prepared me for the incredible display of rudeness that I would witness at the Gallery Place/Chinatown metro stop here in D.C. As I approached the escalators, I saw a swarm of teenagers gathered around. Three, in particular, caught my attention. One was walking on the descending escalators so as to remain on the first step, talking to two others who were blocking the entry onto the escalators.

From the conversation i heard nearly a block away, these teens clearly were not ones to treat others with respect. I do not handle disrespect well.

Fortunately, someone stepped onto the escalators before me. The girls blocking the entry left her and her luggage barely enough space to get through (might I point out, that she could have easily lost her footing). Clearly, she said something, because the next thing I knew, the teen blocking the way, at least 15 years the passerby's junior, got in her face and screamed "GO," in a demanding and unbelievable rude manner.

I got through without such an incident, but as I rode the escalators down, I couldn't help but think about how culture has become so utterly transformed, that something like honor as being a central part to one's life, has been left behind. While the samurai had another more complex meaning of what I am describing here, even an incredibly simple thing like plain respect has been forgotten.

Tamara El Waylly