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LIVING WITH MANNERS 5. Being The First Person To Leave A Funeral
Written by Mandroid3000 Many social situations are fraught with meaning, demand interminable amounts of time, yet still need to be awkwardly brought to a possibly offense-giving close. Phone calls with mother, post-coital embraces, and arthouse movies are examples. Being a reader of this website, you are likely to be the person who does the closing, giving a covert finger to those who linger on in an attempt to grab the sensitivity highground by cowardly inaction. Funerals also need to end at some point as the living have business to go about and the dead don't. You have no doubt sat at the funerals of distant relatives or obscure workmates wondering when you can slip away without causing offense to others or, more importantly, social embarrsement to yourself. No one is going to prematurely wrap up a funeral for you - so it's up to you to sensitively slip out to do something else.
| DO NOT ... yell “Cheese It! |
If the funeral is for a close family member or spouse, it's best to stay until the end (especially if you are suspected of killing them). There's really no way around this besides learning how to astrally project your mind to a more interesting location (video game arcade, for example). WHY DON'T I JUST ...  ... approach the widow with condolenses and explain my situation?
Anything beyond condolensces will cause the widow to glare at you, and others to stare with those “I'm so much more senstive than you are” looks. Sliding over and saying “Sorry, I have a dentist's appointment” isn't even worth attempting. Even if you're going to the best dentist in town who has a month long waiting list and you can show people gaping cavities full of chicken nugget crumbs. Besides, you're slipping away to goof off, you shouldn't tell her that. |
In the Western World, there are two main types of funeral; the burial and the scattering of ashes. Other cultures may have other burial customs, but I only have 1000 or so words and I just wasted 45 of them on this rather useless paragraph. Different strategies are needed for each funeral type as, in general, burials tend to be more morbid and require a more sombre escape plan (don't smile), whereas ash scatterings tend to be more upbeat and accompanied by Neil Diamond's soundtrack for Johnathan Livingston, Seagull (so you can try escaping by dancing through the trees like a Wood Sprite). Let's get vaguely specific anyway - How To Leave A Burial
How long after the last rose has been thrown in and the casket lowered into the ground by a surly groundskeeper before you can wander off? The answer is – right away. If you have the right demeanour.  Try being distant and hard boiled. Like you've seen it all before and it disgusts you, this death business (try to distinguish it from being disgusted by all the crying people). Do not look anyone in the eye; this is between you and death.
Bonus: it will make the truly bereaved feel like their part of some rich noir tapestry and that the deceased was more interesting than they really were. | DO NOT ... Try to deliver any dialogue |
If you smoke as part of this character, turning a wandering in the woods to a mad sprint to freedom is a good plan but not very practical given that your lungs are like two overcooked rump steaks. Instead, flick the butt angrily into the ground as you turn and walk away with an obscurely metaphorical gait.  A lot of graveyards have gravel car parks
If you want to escape, you have to lay the groundwork by parking on the lawn or an exceptionally grassy grave. Also, leave the engine running so people think it's the background noise that rotting people make. |
How to Leave an Ash Scattering
Your first instinct may be to cut in line to be one of the first to throw a handful into the ocean. Bad move. Being one of the first indicates a strong relationship with the deceased, and you'll likely be manhandled into the centre of a group hug of family members, mistresses, and miscellaneous leeches hoping that they're in the Will. | DO NOT ... jump into the ocean and try to swim for it. |
Somewhere a trivia-focused academic has no doubt proved that group hugs can only get so large before torque and unwanted groping causes splintering into several smaller groups. Scatter your handful of ashes later and you'll find yourself entwined with Jorge from accounts, giving you an opportunity for a whispered discussion about the Copa Libertores as your hugging group spins ever closer to the carpark and freedom. Look behind you... Be aware that, as in most moments in life, you aren't the only one desiring what you desire. As you slip away, you may see many less tactful and imaginative members of the mouring party grab on to your coattails and follow. If this mob gets too large it will be noticed, and you are going to be seen as the Head Troublemaker; you will forever be remembered for this. A curt but forceful “Find your own fucking escape route” should suffice.
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THE LIVING SHOULDN'T FEAR THE DEAD
But what if you're paralysed to inaction by your fear of the deceased's otherworldly wrath? He may be there, you think, floating about the proceedings with an expectation of seeing genuine grief. When he sees your shifty/opportunistic eyes the sepulchral wrath will be unquenchable. You will be haunted to the point of madness and beyond. If you really believe it, you can sit at the burial all night for all I care, you dozy fucker. EXCEPTION! Don't anger the ghost of someone who's been cremated. They look like this... ..and can enter your blood stream and make war. Finally, Be Thankful
 Let's pretend for a moment that this advice doesn't help you (likely due to your failure to follow it to the letter) and you're caught and shamed and ostracised from polite society for your funerary truancy.
Remember: You're still alive. As you skip down the road (or run from a hail of tombstones, as the case may be), and return to the life you live with the jaded contempt and down-trodden malaise that you're reknowned for, tip your hat to the heavens and say some meaningful phrase like “See you later, Pokey” or “It was a wild ride, Lord Trunkthorpe”; a gesture that holds more meaning than all the dull sermons and toneless children's sing-a-longs of “I Will Always Love You” ever could. |
