“What is wrong with people?!”
Usually it’s me muttering this under my breath, while driving around Prescott, AZ, where someone is unironically sporting a Marjorie Taylor Greene sticker on their matte black jeep. Or there’s that pickup truck again, painted all over in large sloppy letters, “NASA IS A HOAX.” Or the lawn sign that angrily tells Californians to go home and take their voting records with them. Or the other pickup, with unreasonably large wheels and a message displayed more discreetly on the hat on its dashboard: “Murder Your Local Pedophile.”
But I’m not driving in Arizona, and I’m not the one saying this. I’m in a bathroom stall in Queens. In La Guardia Airport.
“What?” asks a younger woman in another stall.
“Somebody took off their pasties and just left them in the stall,” says the first voice.
I start giggling quietly.
“What did they, think someone else would use them? That they’d be recycled?”
I’ve missed you, New York. Never change.