So on Monday night, since Mr. Personality took a three hour nap, we decided to go to one of our favorite malls, Fashion Island. Fasion Island is beautiful, clean, and has a large number of kid-friendly things, from a koi pond to a carousel. Now, Fashion Island is located in a pricey city, Newport Beach. Suffice it to say, if you live in Newport Beach, you either inherited your house or you make a lot of money. It is quite obvious when you look at Hubba-hubba and me that we aren't from around those parts.
Newport Beach is a city that is filled with Rich Wife Clones. I say this because they all somehow seem to look alike. The look this season is frosted blonde hair, shoulder length and with some layers. Last year the look was short hair, so they must have had a Clone Conference and decided to grow it out. Add to the mix casual clothing that screams, "I have enough money to color coordinate my expensive velour track suit to my expensive purse and shoes, and I have 15 more of these ensembles waiting in the closet." They own only Peg Perego strollers (Graco strollers are so gauche), and their toddlers must also have coordinated outfits that match their fifty dollar mini Ugg boots.
For some reason, despite all the money they have, these Clones are some of the rudest people you will ever meet. Perhaps having so much money that having to choose between the Escalade or the Jag is the biggest decision of the day puts you in kind of an insulated bubble, where the concerns of the little people are so beneath you that they barely register on your existence radar.
Take for example Clone #1, who was crossing the street on foot, and happened to recognize the driver of the Mercedes in front of us. We were waiting for the driver to make a right turn, but they continued to gab, oblivious of us behind them. The light turned green, still no movement on either of their parts. I told Hubba-hubba that if he didn't honk, I was going to. Luckily for them, some pedestrians were crossing with the light, so they got a short reprieve. Finally, their all-important conversation was over, and they both left the scene with nary a glance or apology at our car. Now I can totally see talking to someone that you happen to see so serendipitously. But, what I cannot understand is the lack of at least a token wave or sorry to the car that you just made wait three minutes due to your exaggerated sense of self importance.
Clone #2 was in front of us in line for the picture with the Easter Bunny. Goodness knows how long she had already been there, but it didn't matter because she obviously didn't care how many people were waiting in line behind her. "Alex, that's a fake smile, I want a nice smile." "Chin up, sweetie, put your chin up a little bit." "No, no, put your hand up on your lap..." and on and on. You would have thought she had hired the Easter Bunny for a private photo session. The picture-taker was putting up with her because I am sure that he felt with all the demands for perfection the purchase of the $60 package was gauranteed. So finally he meets the limits of how many pictures his program can take, and she makes him click back and forth, chewing her bottom lip in indecision. "Hold on," and she walks out of the little gazebo and over to rather far away friend. They saunter back to the computer screen and now both of them cannot decide. Finally after much agonizing, they pick a picture. She tells the cashier person that she will purchase package #6, which is a whopping twenty dollars. At no time did she ever even glance at anyone in line.
Now Clone #3 did glance at the line of people who were waiting for her two bratty kids to get off the carousel, but she smiled in a way that said, "Oh, look at the little darlings. Don't you agree with me how cute it is that they won't get off the carousel two minutes after it has ended, even though the operator has asked them twice to leave? I am sure you are all standing in line in the cold just wishing they would stay on a little longer so you could admire them some more." She said out loud, "Oh, I think they think that if they just stay on, they can have another ride." That is an understandable mindset for two 6 year olds. If that had been my son, I would have made him get his little butt off the horse pretty much as soon as the ride stopped, no need for the operator to even say anything even one time.
Even though we had a great time despite the Clones, I cannot help but wonder what in the world has happened to people. This is not the first time we have encountered the Clones, so I am not just extrapolating from a single experience, I assure you. It boggles my mind that there are so many people out there who operate as if the world revolved completely around them, and everyone else inhabiting the world are just annoying carbon-based creatures of some sort, who have (gasp) non-perfectly matching purse and shoes.