This was printed in The Globe and Mail. Unfortunately, articles which are 7 days old or more are removed from the website. So I'll reprint it here.
In the blue trunks
A Chump in a world of queue-jumping,
garbage-dumping, Chump-thumping ChampsCHRISTOPHER CAMERON
Wednesday, January 12, 2000
The Globe and Mail
I am a Chump.
After thinking it over for years and discarding some other sobriquets such as Self-Righteous Prig, Conformist Lambchop and Spineless Milquetoast, I've decided that the word Chump is the most accurate term for what I am and the way I behave. Here's why:
I make a practice of signalling all my turns and lane changes. I come to a complete stop at four-way stop signs. If it says No Left Turn at an intersection, I don't make one. I try to obey the posted speed limit. At lunchtime, when a sign asks me to put only aluminum cans in the food court recycling bin, I don't go over and stuff my McDonald's bag in there. I see nothing the least bit noteworthy in these actions; it's just that I have this idea that certain codes of behaviour were put in place for the harmony and safety of all, and that they don't work properly if we do not adhere to them.
If a sign instructs me not to park on a particular part of the street at a particular time, I choose to believe that the reason for the instruction is not to spoil my day or to boss me around, but to facilitate the flow of traffic so others are not inconvenienced. I do not take this kind of restriction personally, nor do I expect the world to make an exception just for me. Make no mistake: I am not talking about blind submission to arbitrary measures, pace Junius, I am just talking about the observance of simple conventions such as respect for property, good manners and consideration for others.
My fellow Chumps and I spend our days in contact with people who are the opposite of Chumps; let's call them Champs. The Champs roll right on through those pesky stop signs with only the briefest toe service paid to the brake pedal. They dive in and out of heavy traffic like joyful porpoises, confident that their superior driving skills and lightning-fast reaction times will spare them from any disasters.
Champs leave their garbage behind on picnic tables and their beer cans at the side of the road; they smoke on subway platforms, steal parking spaces, and take 12 items to the 11-items-or-less checkout line. I realize that none of these misdeeds would qualify a Champ for an appearance on America's Most Wanted,but they are all distasteful enough to cheapen the world and to degrade the quality of life. And, for the most part, the Champs get away with it all. Every once in a while, you do hear of a Champ who gets hoisted on his own petard, but usually they can be seen scuttling off down the road in blithe smugness, leaving behind them a screech of brakes, a chorus of honks and a trail of fresh trash.
How do they do it? How can they get away with it?
Well, for one thing, all Champs know that the world is divided into two kinds of people: themselves and everybody else, who are of course, the Chumps. The Champ knows that, every time he blows through a residential stop sign, we Chumps at the intersection will just have to wait there with patient docility or else risk injury to ourselves and others. The Champ knows that, if she tosses her doggy's used doo-doo bag in her neighbour's Blue Box, someone will eventually come along and sort it all out. And someone eventually does.
In fact, the world spends a good deal of its time watching out for, putting up with, and cleaning up after the Champs. And they know we will. For every toilet seat that is left up, there is some Chump who will dutifully put it down again.
Who are the Champs, I sometimes wonder, these queue-jumpers, these emptiers-of-ashtrays-in-parking-lots, these diamond-lane trespassers? How did they become the way they are? Do they have families who love and respect them? Do they have spouses who think they are terrific, caring folks? Are they passing their unpleasant little habits on to their children?
Champs are not easily apprised of their status, and confrontation does not always work well. We Chumps must be careful if we try to stand up to the Champs. We are not very good at it; we get it wrong. We end up getting beaten up, or run off the road, or worse. I know this because I once spoke up to a young Champ who was graphically exercising his literary talents on the walls of a subway car. I was lucky to avoid having his black marker pen become part of my anatomy. What a Chump I was!
Is it possible that some ultimate showdown between the Chumps and the Champs will take place, that the contest between Common Courtesy and Common Boorishness will one day be decided? If so, I'm afraid I'd have to put my money on the Champs. They hold all the cards, and they're better at stacking the deck. And when it's all over, the surviving Chumps will stay behind to clean up the mess.
Chump Christopher Cameron lives in Toronto.
I am sort of half Chump and half Champ. What about you?------------------
I can resist anything.......
Except Temptation
[This message has been edited by Tahna Los (edited January 18, 2000).]
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