Being Pregnant Does Not Give You Carte Blanche To Act Like An Asshole

Midtown is always a pretty hideous place to find oneself on anything approaching a regular basis. It brings together the worst of what New York City has to offer -- white collar workers with thingstodopeopletoseeplacestobe and clueless tourists with all the time in the world to do stuff like stand around in the middle of the sidewalk and take pictures of stores. However, a couple of times per year, things happen in Midtown which catapult the misery to shocking new levels.

- There's the St. Patrick's Day Parade on 5th Avenue, of course. The masochist in me drags my ass into the office every St. Patrick's Day. And every year, after climbing over drunk people on the sidewalk, wading through pools of vomit and pee, and listening to the same three bagpipe songs all frigging day, I swear to myself that next St. Patrick's Day, I'm going to work from home. But I never do. So I suppose this one is actually my fault.

- But there's also Rockefeller Center at Christmas-time. I can't very well work from home the entire month of December. But God help you if you need to get through that place for any reason during the last month of the year. Mayor Bloomberg can take his "quality of life" initiatives and shove 'em until he implements express lanes for locals who are just trying to frigging get wherever we need to go in that neck of the woods during the entire Christmas season. We don't need to take pictures of the Christmas Tree from every angle, nor stop suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when the choreographed snowflake crap starts up on the facade of Saks Fifth Avenue. We just need to get wherever we're trying to go. Ugh!!!

- And then there's the U.N. Which is what brings us together today. Because it's in session right now. And in fact, earlier today, President Obama met with Benjamin Netanyahu and Mahmoud Abbas. Which is all well and good. Except that, for reasons which never became apparent, the police blocked the entirety of 53rd Street from 1st Avenue to 8th Avenue a couple of hours ago. A period which happened to coincide with what was supposed to be a quick trip to grab a late lunch, but turned into me trapped on the sidewalk a block south of my office. There I stood, while multitudes of people accumulated at each corner. Tourists snapped pictures. Business people cursed under their breath and typed furiously on their BlackBerries. Then, after about 20 minutes of absolutely nothing happening, the police pulled back one barricade at each corner to let pedestrians cross.

Which, as you can imagine, created chaos. Chaos which became even worse for me when it devolved into a total Disney World experience. Those of you who know me know my feelings on Disney World: It's pretty much the most God-forsaken place on the planet. But have you ever had the displeasure of being at the fucking Magic Kingdom after the fireworks end? There's families with little kids everywhere, but there's six psychotic women dispersed throughout the crowd who have somehow arrived at the conclusion that their family is more important than everyone elses, and they're out there screaming at everyone to get out of their way because they "have children with them." You know what I'm talking about here?

Well yeah, I had the Crazy Pregnant Woman version of the Disney World experience this afternoon. Because the crowds start moving, and to be sure, there's a bit of pushing and shoving going on. But I'm getting pushed from behind with a force that's approaching distressing. You know, there's your standard "sea of humanity" pushing, but then there's your "someone might get injured" pushing. This was the latter.

So I look over my shoulder. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but there's this tiny blond chick digging her knuckles into my back. I tell her that she needs to cut it out, which elicits the somewhat ridiculous response (see: digging her knuckles into my back), "I'm not pushing." Followed by delayed indignance: "I'm pregnant." And then the comically self-righteous finale: "I'm just protecting my baby." Riiiiiggghhht. Because pushing and shoving your way through thousands of New Yorkers -- to get to The Gap, by the way, that was her ultimate destination -- is in the best interests of your baby. So yeah. Perhaps the first part of my response wasn't the ideal way to diffuse the situation: "I'm sorry you're pregnant." But the second part of it was legitimate: "That doesn't mean you can push people." She begged to differ, though, because she informed me that I was a "crazy bitch," and then we both went on with our lives.

But seriously. I'm all for making pregnant women's lives easier when I can. I'll step out of the way to let them pass, give them my seat on the subway, hold open doors, whatever. Totally not a problem. But being pregnant does not give you carte blanche to act like an asshole. If you're so worried, as you claim, about protecting your baby, how about waiting a few minutes till the bulk of the crowd disperses? I know you're in a rush to get to The Gap, but seriously, plunging into that mess and then uping the ante by pushing and shoving your way through it is not a good idea, and acting all self-righteous when someone calls you on your bullshit is ridiculous.

Uuugggghhhh, this city, man. I love it. But some days it wins. Today was one of those days.