when a friend of mine claimed that she had some “riff raff” in her, i felt it necessary to clarify that while she was free to categorize herself as whatever she wanted, she couldn’t possibly be anything like the riff raff i’ve unfavorably encountered as of late (or really ever, for that matter). point taken. so we agreed that she’s riff with a lowercase r, and without the raff. just riff.
and the more i’ve thought about it, the more i’ve realized that most people probably have a little bit of riff or raff in their system. some can reach deep down and pull out some riff with a capital r, while others may have full blown riff raff hidden somewhere in the depths of their beings. i’m still convinced, however, that there are very few disgraceful habits, short fuses, or guilty pleasures that can hold a candle to the all-capital RIFF RAFF i’m usually referring to when recounting my own experiences with the like.
babs did it and she got caught!
even i have a bit of riff i can bring out when necessary. in fact, just this weekend i riffed it out at the movie theater. i went to a matinee show and while i didn’t originally plan on bringing my breakfast into the theater with me, i realized that was the only option as i glanced at my watch and had just 2 minutes to spare. my (new york style!) pumpernickel bagel with lox, cream cheese, and tomatoes got stuffed into my jacket pocket without warning, and off i went.
i’ll admit, i was a bit nervous at the ticket counter. i kept one arm limp in an effort to cover the top of my (wrapped) bagel that was peeking out from my pocket. the cashier seemed less than happy to be at work, and therefore was completely uninterested in whatever i was trying to sneak in. phew.
i gained some confidence as i walked through the hallway, and then was quickly overcome with fear when i saw the ticket taker waiting for me. aside from being a couple minutes late (which is already riff-like in my book; i hate being late, and don’t believe in walking into dark movie theaters stumbling over people, looking for a seat, even if the first 10 minutes are dedicated to previews), i was at a theater that only screens independent films AND it was a matinee, so there was absolutely no one else in the lobby; this means no one to take cover behind, next to, or otherwise. (and allison certainly didn’t count, because she had her own bagel and both of our drinks – which actually looked more like large growths beneath her fully zipped jacket - to worry about.)
luckily, he too was unenthused. i’m sure he noticed, and just didn’t care. works for me!
and as i recount this story, i’m left here thinking about the position i put myself in. is getting caught bringing food to the movies the end of the world? no, of course not. but had i been caught, i would’ve either a) missed out on a wonderful breakfast (that was already paid for) or b) missed out on a movie i planned to see (which was also already paid for). there was also the sheer nervousness and fear of getting caught (although i did love the brief adrenaline rush) to factor in. (and i won’t even mention the shame/embarrassment i felt as i unwrapped my bagel in the theater, and tried my best to make it sound like something i had actually purchased at the concession stand.)
all this worry, just because i let a little riff get the best of me. (not to mention, i’ve now become the very folks i complain about. ahhh the hypocrisy.) unfortunately, i can’t guarantee i’ll opt-out the next time i sense a little riff in my system. but maybe one day i’ll feel just a little better about it.
do you have a story of how you let riff, raff, or perhaps even riff raff get the best of you? simply click on ‘comment’ below the title above. i’d love to hear about it!
