Is Chivalry Dead?

Is chivalry dead?

It certainly felt that way in Atlanta this afternoon.  The home of the Braves was three strikes out when it came to questionable behavior.

I’m not talking about the truly Southern gentlemanly stuff like opening doors, standing up when I approach a table, or pulling out my chair (which I am admittedly a sucker for).

I’m talking about rude “even a Yankee should know better” offenses.

Strike one – The guy who ran over my high-heeled foot with his roller board in his haste to board the rental car shuttle train ahead of me.  He then threw himself across the seat I was headed for and sat down in that knees-far-apart wide leg stance some boarish men like to take to impose themselves on a space.  Such a shame – I was only planning on using it for a second so I could unzip my bag and put flats on!  Another man was quick to grab the other open seat for his bags to ride in so I never changed my shoes, not wanting to be a nuisance in the middle of the train car.

Strike two – Still in my heels after standing in the rental train car, I head to the hotel shuttle area.  There are limited benches and the one by my bank of shuttles is taken up by three men – none sitting – all using it to house their stuff.  I stand uncomfortably in my heels, shifting back and forth.  They notice but make no effort to offer me a place to sit down.  I try to approach the left hand side (seen here in the photo below) and that guy responds by moving his bag right up against it to block me.

Not quite passenger shaming since they aren't identifiable - just the bodies of the men who hogged the only bench in the shuttle area at ATL this afternoon.

Not quite passenger shaming since they aren’t identifiable – just the bodies of the men who hogged the only bench in the shuttle area at ATL this afternoon.

Strike three – The hotel shuttle finally arrives.  Another man comes from behind me and all but blocks my entrance onto the shuttle (as the driver is taking my bags) so he can climb on ahead of me.  The driver notices and moves his bag to the top rack. When we arrive at the hotel, the driver makes a point of blocking the guy to get my bag and let me off first.  But as I’m walking into the lobby and approaching the elite check-in line, the guy reappears – running to cut in front of me.

Seriously?  You’re all OUT.

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