Radiohead and the Star Wars Boy

There are times when we, as humans, do really stupid things in defense of our own egos.  I think it’s vital to keep a constant vigil on ones own self and be aware of how literally insane we can be in the name of being cool or unconsciously defending something so small you’re the only one that really noticed.

Once and a while, I just want a fountain drink, so I went to a drive thru to get a Diet Coke.  I know, spare me the just drink water speech.  I like aspartame, okay?

At this particular drive thru, there is always the same young man that takes my order.  He is polite, friendly and always smiles all the time. I imagine he’s a very good employee.  Yet, it is apparent by my own judge a book by it’s cover thought process that he is a Star Wars crazed-I have a specified room in the basement to play Dungeons and Dragons-I understand algorithms and code and could make you a psychics app in my sleep while blindfolded kind of kid.

“Hi!  How are you today? That will be $1.20”

I handed him what I thought was $2.00

“Oh, you gave me $3.00, here is your dollar back”

I said, “I’m sorry”

Why am I sorry?  What the fuck possessed me to suggest I was experiencing regret or remorse that I had given him an extra dollar?  Had I morally offended him in such a way that I needed forgiveness?

Then the light bulb went off. I realized that Star Wars boy, was probably identifying me as a dingbat, who is in the early stages of dementia because she is talking to her dog in the backseat and can’t count money—she can’t think of anything in her sleep because she’s OLD.

He might not have been thinking that.  But that’s what I thought.  I deserved it for being so judgmental.

So what do I do?  I turn up the car stereo, really loud.  Because it made sense at the time.  It’s one of Freud’s defense mechanisms that never quite made the list.  I know this for sure.

Copy of Freud's original worksheet when he began working on Ego Defense Mechanisms

There. You listen to the Star Wars theme. I listen to Radiohead.  I’m cool.  I am not what you think.  I. Am. Cooler. Than. You. Are.   I am blaring the Pablo Honey Album from 1993, because I am sooooo up to date on my tunes. 

I turned to my dog and said “Yea.  I just fucking did that”, because I needed to appear even more dementia-like.

My dog just stared at me and I know he was thinking.  Does Darth Vader have a hamburger for me?