In the Course of a Day

As I was standing in line the other day, my mind started to drift as it is seems to do when one is waiting in line.  During my pondering, the brain wandered to wonder how much time over the course of my years have I stood in line.  The result was amazing, but knowing you cannot really do much about it, can have fun “people watching”, possibly learn something, and know you are in the company of folks aspiring to the same end result makes waiting almost bearable.

In the course of this one particular day, I waited to buy gas.  Which is odd, because the price has gone out of control, but here, with our chariots, we all waited to pay the higher prices.  Every pumping bay had 6 cars lined up, begging the metal monsters that we could be recipients of their precious petroleum.  Knowing that gasoline is a necessary evil, I would say that the spirits of the patrons were pretty good-natured.  Patience paid off and I only had to wait 20 minutes to spend $24.39 on the prize.  It wasn’t time wasted, I found out from my stash of magazines kept strategically in my car for situations that I need to kill time, how to pick the freshest rhubarb, how to get a hot date through Internet match-making and that this is a bumper crop year for grapes in the wine-making world.  Where else would I be able to take the time to embrace such knowledge?

Also during this day, I participated in line at the bank, the grocery store, Wal-Mart, Target, Home Depot, Costco, the dry cleaners, the car wash, and even the restroom [which I thought was a female thing reserved for big events such as ball games, county fairs or locations with libations that should only be rented, and not purchased at full price, as they pass through so quickly].  Since it always seems that I pick the slowest line, even if there is just one person ahead of me, I had braced myself for a long day.  I wasn’t let down and successfully added a solid hour of toe tapping and perusing of the titles of tabloids, contemplated the placement and price of “impulse” items, tried to figure out why there are many more checkout stands than checkout workers, and noticed that I kept seeing this same person at each of my shopping haunts.  She acknowledged me, too, and commented we must be on the same sequence of shopping stops.

The best line by far that I got to wait in was when I felt the urge for my fix of a soft pretzel and soda from the snack bar.  I took my place at the end of a 12-person line.  It felt like an eternity that I stayed the last person, until someone asked if I was the end of the line.  I then started blabbering that yes I was, but it was nice to have someone behind me now.  The time was short but I learned that this man had been a Marine, and that Marines know that you never pick the guy who consistently winds up at the end of lines as a partner – you want the front-of-the-line type of people, more aggressive and ambitious, he said.  We touched on the unbelievable cash flow that this snack bar must have with all these people in line and it would be nice to have stock in such an operation.  We chitchatted and shared tid-bits that somehow validate the few minutes you have to interact.  Then it was my turn to order… you don’t even get a chance to say a proper goodbye.  If I had more time in line I would have asked him many more questions about the Marines, about what it was like and what he thought about the war we are in today.  Amazing how a chance encounter with an anonymous soul almost seems predestined.

I glanced back in the line and saw my shopping shadow friend and let her know I was heading on home.  She had a few more stops and then she would be heading home, too, after she got out of line. 

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-