Am I old at heart? [Updated: 2/19/10]

Or do I just hate things because I'm rational and those things are annoying and loud and not part of normal human etiquette?

I rode the train today. As it turns out, I've been riding the train a lot lately. I come into Dublin about once a week, for classes, gigs, etc., and it can be a very pleasant ride. Three hours long, but nothing to complain about. I write, I read, I doze off to various podcasts. Except....

Teenagers. I. hate. teenagers. And I think I am starting to hate throngs of school-aged children, as well. Teenagers, in my opinion, are bad in any numbers greater than one. They are disrespectful, they destroy any semblance of calm in a room, and I am sure that I was never one, myself.

Okay, yes, I did pass through adolescence, but I maintain that (no matter how angst-y I was at home) I exhibited a certain level of maturity, awareness of my surrounding, and QUIET while out in the world. (Mom, you are not allowed to comment on this assertion.)

I HATE those effing mp3 players that play without headphones, I HATE the effing teenagers who yell over their blasting club remixes in conversation, and most of all I hate the parents (when present) who do nothing to suggest that the volume of their kids' music (let alone their voices) is inappropriately high.

So, yes, I am a cranky old librarian at heart. And that's just fine with me.

[UPDATE: Feb 19, 2010]

It turns out I don't just hate teenagers, I also hate old people--the ones who think that cell phones are just like the landlines of yore, attached to imaginary walls in their imaginary houses and who think that speaking at a volume appropriate for these imaginary settings, not to mention compensating for the onset of deafness, is the norm.

It's a train, people, not your kitchen or living room or parlor. The people all around you? They are real. They are trying to read. They are trying not to throw their books at your head.