A Purple Monstrosity

Ok, I have to relay my experience yesterday.

During my lunch hour from work, I was on my way to pick something up to eat before going home. As I was driving, I had the misfortune of ending up behind a big van. It wasn't one of those tricked-out conversion vans, or a commercial van like serial killers tend to drive, but rather a 12 passenger van with what looked like 20 people in it.

I'm not the most patient driver in the world. In fact, often times I find myself having to exercise extreme caution for fear that I'm going to flip off my neighbor, my mom's neighbor, or my boss, or that I'll yell something at someone that will be audible to a person 2 miles away that I'm sure to regret at a later date. I was traveling down a main thoroughfare in Janesville with a posted speed limit of 40 m.p.h. This van, however, was going about 25. After a few verbalized choice expletives, and reserving my right to show my "you're number one" hand gesture to the driver of the van once I passed, I realized that the van I was passing contained a gaggle of costumed women bedecked in royal purple.

Yes. You're all groaning. You know who they are. We ALL do. I, too, groaned:

the ladies of the Red Hat Society.

Back in 1987, Jenny Joseph had her poem, "When I'm An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple" published in a book by the same title. I remember my mom getting a copy of said book, and read the poem. And, in all honesty, it was quite funny: then.

Ever since Jenny did our nation a favor by writing this poem, Red Hat Societies have sprung up all over the place, much like the creeping charlie that has also infested my lawn (and everyone else's lawn in my neighborhood) as of late. Yes, the societies for retired women. I would try to be politically correct and address the age of the women as "mature." However, if you have ever had an experience with a group of these harpies, mature is certainly not a word I would use to describe their general behavior when they're out as a group in public.

Perhaps I'm a bit harsh and don't appreciate them as much as I should. However, I don't see how, by wearing purple (in addition to a ridiculous wide-brimmed red hat festooned with purple pansies), it would somehow entitle a person to behave in an obnoxious, rude, and selfish manner.

I recall once when a group of the "Red Hat" ladies (and I use the term ladies very loosely) attended a play for which I was ushering. Not only did they storm the lobby of the theatre like a group of Valkyries in a Wagnerian opera (minus the cry of "HOJOTOS!"), but trying to get them all seated was like a blind man herding an array of cats. It was damn near impossible. After they eventually got seated, I ran into an additional issue: the hats. The unfortunate souls sitting behind these purple roses of Cairo, couldn't see. I exercised my rights as an usher and quickly confronted the offenders and kindly asked them to remove their hats. You would have thought I was asking for a kidney. It seems that several of the "ladies" neglected to fix their hair prior to putting on their scarlet sombreros, and several of them expressed an emotion just short of panic. I relished the fact that I had the upper hand, and they had no choice but to obey my command. They removed their hats. Next time, I'm sure, they'll remember to wear their wigs prior to coming to the theatre. Needless to say, I had no trouble with the group afterward.

So, as I approached the van (thinking about my experience), I didn't salute them like I wanted to. Rather, I let them go on their merry way, expressing my gratitude that I would not be the sorry person who would end up having to deal with them once they reached their field trip destination.

And to my mom I have one thing to say: No!