People are in too much of a hurry. I’m currently not in a hurry. I’m typing extra slowly because I’m on vacation. I’m also using relaxing verb tenses and drinking something with rum in it. I’m sitting on a balcony, watching people hurry to the beach as if the pelicans are breathlessly awaiting their arrival. You can always tell the people who just got to the vacation destination from the ones who’ve been there a few days by how quickly they’re moving.
Last night we were on our way to watch the sunset and a car pulled up quickly and parked. A couple got out and began speed walking towards the public access path, rushing right by us. The husband announced as he went by, “We’re hurrying to get a bench. Ha, ha. Just kidding. We’re not trying to get a bench.” He added nervously, “But there are plenty of them there.”
Away they went. By the time we got to the beach, they were sitting on a bench. “We’ve got room for two. Maybe three,” the man called. Obviously, he felt guilty about telling us he wasn’t really racing to get a bench, when in fact he was. In his hurry, he must have thought we were the bench police. But we didn’t want a bench. And certainly not next to them. When the sunset came, they hurried back to their car and left. Another box checked. On to the next thing.
Hurrying can make you do rude things. And then it can make people hate you. If you’ve ever flown Southwest Airlines, you know they board you in groups. On Saturday, I witnessed a family try to rush the line as the A 1-30 group was boarding. They had a group of ten with various small children and were supposed to be waiting for the families with kids group that boards between groups A & B. They forced their way into the line and it caused a ruckus among the gate agents and other passengers. Because the first member of the group had her ticket scanned before someone raised a complaint, they wound up letting the whole group get on. Let’s just say they weren’t the most popular guests of the airline that day.
In a moment of vacation weakness, I took a look at Facebook, to see what people are fighting about this week. A man in a hurry to get a bag of ice was incensed that he had to drive to the next town over to find a gas station that had ice bags for sale.
Turns out, in my hometown, there is a raging debate about ice coolers and where they belong. Our mayor decreed that those commercial ice coolers outside gas stations & liquor stores must either be inside or not visible from the street. Instead of moving them inside, most of the gas stations decided to eliminate them altogether. This has caused consternation from the ice-buying public. They are a vocal, albeit small, part of the electorate that the Mayor has chosen to alienate.
After reading the toxic posts of people fighting over ice, I decided not to be in a hurry to read any social media for the rest of the week. Or in a hurry to do anything for that matter. Maybe it’s the relaxing nature of a vacation. Maybe it’s the rum.
Carry on, Citizens!
