Push-Pull, Pull-Push

There should be a warning sign for impending stupidity, particularly when it is about to occur in front of people (translation: men).  My recent trip down I'm An A** Ave. should not have been a surprise; after all, I have the uncanny ability to unwittingly succumb to fate's farts at the most unfortunate times.

While leaving a store I have left numerous times, I encountered....wait for it...a door. Shock. Anyway, the label on the door said PUSH.  I pushed; it didn't budge. I pushed a second time; again, it didn't move. Okay, is there some trick to pushing the thing, I wondered. I carefully pointed to each letter and spelled the word: P-U-S-H.  I weakly tried again. Nuthin'.  Son of a b.  Determined to beat said stubborn door, I stood in a lunge-like stance, stuck my butt out, placed both hands on the bar, leaned into it, and shoved with all my might.

Nothing. Not even an inch.

Utterly perplexed, my brain inexplicably decided I shouldn't trust the PUSH label: Hmm, maybe I should pull.  As I reached to "pull," a man behind me said, "Maybe it's locked." Huh, never thought of that. I mean, the other door is for incoming traffic, right?

It was locked--would explain why it wasn't moving. In my defense, I hadn't slept and trusted the PUSH sign.  I mean, if it says PUSH, should it not PUSH? 

The man opened the other door, laughing.

"Thanks," I said, giggling at myself. I mean, I just had to laugh--the whole scene must have been hilarious.

I heard someone mutter the word "cute," which was little consolation considering I felt like I had Dumb A** plastered in neon on my forehead.

I have my moments.