But no one likes it when you hold a door open for someone who's like 30 feet away. All it does is create 15 seconds of awkward. A door comes into view somewhere on the horizon, you make out the faint outline of a traveler far ahead of you and then light emerges from the next room as he opens the door to enter. Surely the door will close behind him, but wait, what's this? The door -- it's staying open and he's not entering. He couldn't be waiting for you -- you're like still 20 strides away. Good Lord, he is. Wait. Do you know this guy? Is it your dad? No, it's just a complete stranger staring at you. And waiting. Don't rush, he says. Take your time. But you quicken your pace. How can you not? Don't rush, he says again, and you do an awkward half-waddle with an arm outstretched in the final three steps to signal the impending hand-off, shaving a microsecond of discomfort off this inexplicably awkward and needless exchange.
The last thing you see before the douche chills set in.