The Door Dilemma, Chivalry and You

A few weeks ago, I was walking to school, on the morning of a ski race. As usual, I had my ski bag in one hand, my lunch in the other, my handbag slung across one shoulder, my backpack bursting with thermal gear on my inadequate shoulders, and my boots, hanging dangerously by a strap from the latter. In other words, I was a human packhorse.

As I approached the crowded de Maisonneuve entrance of Dawson College, I ran into a guy I casually knew. Let's call him George. George and I made small talk as I tried to make my way through the hordes of nicotine-dependent, leather-clad, loud-mouthed students who refused to move.

After half-intentionally smashing the random smokesters with my skis, I reached my final destination: the door. Since I had my hands full, I paused, expecting George to open the door for me. I was apparently asking too much as he stood next to me with a blank look on his face.

I didn't have time to wait for this bovine fellow, so I grabbed my lunch with my remaining free finger and pulled the heavy door open. George nonchalantly walked through, not even looking back as I held the door open with my butt to squeeze all my equipment through.

I didn't think much of the incident then. Later on, though, I got pretty upset. Why had George not opened the door for me? I was obviously struggling with my ski gear. Why had he been so rude? Was common courtesy dead?

Then I remebered a male friend telling me that he never opened doors for women anymore because he thought they would get offended. At the time, I had heartily agreed with him. Yeah, said I in my most militant riot grrl voice, why should women have doors opened for them? We can do it ourselves!

Chivalry, in my opinion, was a dusty term from my grandmother's era- a time when women had to stay at home, were afraid to speak up in class, and couldn't even call a guy! The word invoked images of women who waited daintily for their men to get out of the car and open their door for them. Those women made themselves out to be helpless, infantile and at the mercy of their men. Open that door yourself, girl!

Back to the George incident, I realized that George wasn't being unchivalrous, just plain rude. I didn't want him to open the door for me because I was a woman, but because I was having trouble. On the other hand, I often get smirks if I open the door for a man. I would have opened the door for him had he been in my position. Furthermore, why hadn't anyone else opened the door for me at that crowded entrance?

What happened to old-fashioned manners, la politesse ? Having we become so politically correct that the simple act of opening a door for someone is political? The answer is no, but sometimes people get so caught up in trying not to offend someone that they forget their manners.

Besides, there is something sentimental and romantic about chivalry. I have to admit that I get a bit giddy when the object of my desire opens a door as we walk though it.