Is It Rudeness, Insecurity, or Poor Parenting?

My favorite irritant in life is highway driving around the Washington DC Metropolitan area.  Seriously.

I grew up in Anacostia.  The wrong side of the river for most in Washington.  Of course, as the decades passed and the viral influence of my second most favorite irritant, namely media types who are in a hurry to make it to the national or at least six figure salary levels, the reputation of Anacostia morphed into a greater geographic area, namely Prince George's County, also a locale I called home for longer than most people have years.

During my high school years, Catholic parishes in Anacostia were feeders to St. John's College High, then a military day school with a decent academic and great athletic reputation.  The kids from a bit more money and social standing gravitated to Gonzaga and Georgetown Prep.  Still we "southeast" boys were looked upon as different from the Blessed Sacrament off-spring from Chevy Chase.  On a football school bus caravan from St. John's to Anacostia High about a half mile from the row house my dad bought the day I was born, the Northwest boys sitting around me, commented that "some of these houses are almost livable."   

(That attitude continued throughout my college years at Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass.  Anyone living below Philadelphia was seen a uneducated lower classes of less than lilywhite complection.  Forget the idea that anyone "down South" could be a social equal much less educated.  I kid you not.  

Back then PCs much less cell phones were non existant.  The lone phone on our dorm's corridor was in the stairwell.  One day, a classmate came into my dorm room and announced in an agitated voice "John, you have a phone call and it's a 'negro!'"  I got up from my desk and walked to the phone.  My incredulous Yankee classmate followed like a curious puppy.  Without a heartbeat's hesitation I said, "Hi Dad.")


Unfortunately, that's not ancient history from the '50s and '60s.  Today, the area's Catholic education system has also transitioned away from Prince George's/Southeast Washington to a more upper socio-economic student pool: Montgomery County in Maryland and Northern Virginia across the Potomac River.

For the most part everyone in SE/Anacostia etc. saw everyone else as peers and acted accordingly.


Today, drive up the main auto vein cutting through the heart of Montgomery County or any highway in Northern Virginia and you will experience the same cultural differentiation, only now the identifiers are the upscale brand of car.  


The pool of Lexus SUVs, Infinities, Audies, BMWs and Hitler's personal favorite are all in a big hurry.  I assume they are speeding in the high 70s and 80s to check their stock portfolios or just get away from Dodge Neon riffraff.  


I'm told that in many jurisdictions, the combination of a turn signal light and statutes stating that a following car must yield to allow the lead vehicle to change lanes safetly is the law.  I'm absolutely certain that turn signals are standard equipment on all models of motor vehicles.  What I was not prepared for is the attitude that changing lanes with ample signaling constitutes a personal insult to the typical BMW and Lexus driver.


I can't count the times daily these lovely ladies and gents of all ages insist on putting the accelerator to the floor and blocking attempts to maneuver towards an exist ramp.  It really seems personal because they flash various indications of being upset that their path might be crossed by someone of inferior breeding.


I often wonder if it is class arrogance or inherent rudeness.  I'm beginning to suspect poor parenting may be the root cause.  Stop and think.  How many families actually sit down to a meal together?  How many children are taught to correctly set out knives, forks and spoons on either side of a dinner plate.  Guaranteed they never say "Please pass" for anything.  Adults aren't addressed as Sir or Ma'am.  Teachers, cops, parents are barely acknowledged with anything mildly resembling respect.


I literally get nauseated when a television commercial portrays a family meal as a bucket of chicken lumps spun together into "white meat" by huge centrifuges.  


I wouldn't mind traveling the area highways even with the toney rides speeding by  if I thought the inhabitants were hurrying to be with their families.  But I suspect even with a wife or husband and a kid and a half or whatever the upscale demgraphics dictate, these folks screech into their driveways and spend more time before mirrors admiring themselves than hugging a spouse or offspring.  I hope I'm wrong.