Rushing to Wait

Hurry up. Come on let's go. You're not reading this fast enough. Don't you know there are other blogs waiting for your attention? There are precious words zipping thru cyber-space faster than the Dunkin' D’s drive-up window and they're calling out your name, man. Don't you realize the faster you get through this uninteresting pile of thoughts, there are others. Lots of others, out there waiting eagerly for your eyes to scan the verbage? What???? You still have dial-up???? Archaic.

You get in the car, honk the horn, and rush...to wait in traffic. You race through the grocery store, cut grandma off in the cookie aisle, and scan the registers for the shortest line. You decide definitely Lane 4. Turns out the man in front of you decides he really had to have the last item with no price on it and will gladly wait for the price check. You then decide, better change lanes because price-check bad. Looks like granny is in front of you after all in Lane 5. Because she got a personal phone call from her not-so-sick daughter who couldn't go to school today, you wait impatiently because the cashier won’t take your money. You restlessly bag your own groceries, smashing the tomatoes underneath the coffee because the "minimum-wage-making-I-could-give-a-rip-about-this-stupid-job-bagger" is too busy being preoccupied with the "clueless-forced-by-her-mother-to-learn-responsibilty-and-pay-for-her-own-cell-phone (which by the way she will still pretend not to know you tomorrow in the hallway after second period) jane-bagger on register 6. When the puppy-eyed chap finally makes it over, just in time to ask "Would you like help out to your car?," you put on your best patronizing smile and politely relinquish his foolish request. Once you get within 20 feet you begin friviously pressing your keyless trunk entry key until finally it pops and you think to yourself, "so that's where I parked." Finally, you finish stuffing the trunk to capacity and slam the lid down tight. Remembering to push the cart kamikaze-style across the parking lot aiming for the cart coral makes you give yourself a pat on the back (hey, you are a concerned citizen who is registered to vote). Bullseye, well not quite, but close enough. You step back to your trunk, which has popped ajar and you slam the lid down just hard enough to completely smash the bread. Now you are ready to high-tail it out of the parking lot, only to see granny pushing her cart, smiling so bright at you in your rearview mirror--and even though the temptation flashes like a bumper sticker RUN HER DOWN--you must simply wait...and you force yourself to smile back.