The Frying Pan People

" The Frying Pan People "

The idea came to us one Summer while we were vacationing on Cape Ann, North of Boston. My Sister in Law, Trish, had occasion to visit a Wahlgreen's Department Store, to make a small purchase. While there, she had the opportunity to observe what we would later dub "Frying Pan People." An overly portly matron, stuffed into tight fitting spandex, was upbraiding her slightly built and shabbily dressed mate. The timid looking male had picked up a metal frying pan for purchase. The solidly constructed female, who had three bags of Dorritos and one each of cheezebits and Potato chips in her arms, let out a high pitched and nasal barrage. "What are you doing with a frigging frying pan, she roared. "We have twenty frigging dollars left and you want to buy a frigging frying pan!"

Naturally, every customer in the store had their ears riveted to the conversation, though inwardly each cringed with embarrassment for the uncaring couple. Their eyes and movements might be focused elsewhere, but all attention centered upon the domestic squabble.This was supermarket drama at its best, loud, embarrassing and above all, fascinating.

The exchange continued on for some minutes and was resolved with minor threats of physical violence and an uneasy and sulking hostility. I suppose we will never know what went on when the twenty dollars was used up. Maybe some other audience got an even uglier and more embarrassing public performance.

Since that time, we have many times observed people like this, as they interact with each other in public. They don't come in any particular race, creed or ethic grouping.
They share but a single characteristic, a particular and bizarre unconcern for the feelings of others and a wanton desire to embarrass each other, and everybody else in earshot, with their language and behavior.

They are the people that keep the polyester and spandex factories running at full production. They buy large quantities of the plastic pen protectors that fit into shirt pockets and they simply have not a clue how to relate to each other or anybody else in a graceful manner in public. They are the awkward people to whom the niceties of social conduct have never been introduced.

I suppose it is not their fault really, but they can be awfully annoying. In any case, we decided that rather than become irritated with these unfortunate people, we would mentally award them "The Order of the Frying Pan." The order could also be awarded in the first, second or third degree, depending on how completely awful the public spectacle created. Multiple medals for crowd behavior was also permissible, with smaller decorations for particularly obnoxious children.

In this way, we were able to mentally channel our annoyance with "Frying Pan People, in a humorous fashion, that would bring a shared smile to our faces, even when you just wanted to crawl under a rock to get away from them. It might even elicit some compassion for the crude and outrageous behavior that they could inflict on everyone in earshot. They were luckless souls riding a very bumpy road of life, without realizing that the smooth pavement was just over the verbal and behavioral horizon.

We had employed a similar concept with an idea given to us by Trish's Husband, Brandon. Brandon's brother, Rivers, had always used the expression "Put them on the bus," when he ran into offensive behavior. What he meant was that he imagined the annoying party would be sealed up tightly on a bus, without a lavatory, headed for Valpariso, Chili. The bus would be full of smokers, religious prosletizers, Hari Krishnas, and anyone else you could imagine that could be annoying, locked on the bus with the offending party. It was silly really, but the thought of some social miscreant riding 5,000 miles on a bus like that seemed to take the sting out of their immediate offensive behavior. Humor is always the best medicine.

While serving as Erie County Parks Commissioner, a wonderfully talented female employee had made me a fully illustrated cardboard cutout of this imaginary "bus, laden with a wide variety of odd characters. There were several cardboard head and shoulder cutouts of people on the roof, along with the piles of luggage. Whenever someone greatly annoyed us, we penciled their name onto a figure and "put them on the bus." It seemed to help in dispelling tension, and we all got a much needed laugh out of it.

So when next you encounter an overly loud individual whose public behavior is so outrageous that you cringe in embarrassment for them, you can privately award them "The Order of the Frying Pan" and mentally escort them "onto the bus" for a journey to Chili. It could bring a much needed smile to your face, at a time when you most need it.

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Joseph Xavier Martin