Take Time to Smell the Watermelons

Photo Disclaimer: Watermelons are not easily smell-able in this state.

At Shaws, I just want to buy some watermelon. There are not enough cashiers on this particular day. I stand in line and leave a gap between me and the woman with the stroller in front of me so other people can get by.

An elderly woman stops in front of me, looking at the three fussy children and the woman with her hands on their stroller. (I assume it's their mom.)

The older woman doesn’t notice me standing a few feet back and she decides that this is her line.

It’s O.K. I’m not in a rush. I know she didn’t see me; she wasn’t pulling a scam. Whatever. I’ll wait.

However, the mom of the three fussies isn’t moving too fast. After a moment, the older Mrs. starts chatting with them and slowly loading her own stuff onto the belt. All other lines are full. This is going to take a while. I'm still O.K.

Mommy and her three leave. Mrs. finally turns around and notices me holding my lone cut of watermelon, perched on my right shoulder like a waitress’s tray.

Mrs.: “That’s all you have? You know what, I’m gonna let you go ahead of me.”

Me: “Oh, thank you! Aren’t you sweet?”

Mrs.: “That’s not what my children say about me.”

Me: “Kids are never supposed to think their Mom is sweet!”

We chuckle. I check out and turn to tell her goodbye.

To recap: she was the one who cut me off in line, unawares, and instead of being bitchy, I decided to hang in there. And we had a pleasant exchange. And it turned out fine.

When did this become so difficult for me? Why is it such an accomplishment that I didn't inform the woman in a snotty, self-righteous tone that actually, she cut me off in line, but I had let her go first anyway, and I'm not asking her to thank me, but "I just wanted her to know." 

Doesn't it seem like we are all so much more impatient these days? Is it just me?? Is this that phenomenon where you/I get/got older and started seeing the world differently than we/I did through the unjaded eyes of youth?

I'll admit it. More and more, I've lost my patience in tons of areas of Life where I used to be patient. While waiting for my daughter to get into the car. While listening to terrible music on hold and hoping an actual human customer service rep will speak soon. Even while waiting for a damn app to load on my phone*.

(*Really??? I have to admit this seems like a serious problem on my end.)

I've been driving like an asshole too. Like all of those "other" drivers that I usually berate, I have noticed myself actually bordering on road rage. All too often, I drive too fast, and then get mad when someone's going "too slowly" in front of me.

Audience: Check it out - you can adopt your own "mini personal watermelon" for only $4.99. #suchadeal.

A few months ago, I inspired a fellow driver to give me the finger. Not uncommon in the state in which I live, which is notoriously filled with "Massholes," but I never used to be one of them. And you know what? He was totally justified! I was riding on his tail. So, he slowed down as much as he could until he forced me to brake, and then he suddenly took off like a bat out of Hell. As he drove off, he rolled down his window. In.. the... winter... And flipped me the bird. 

Granted, he wasn't totally without blame either. Why did he think it was OK for him to drive in the fast lane while cranking Barry Manilow* and even more ridiculously, going the actual speed limit? 

(*Disclaimer: I have enjoyed some of Barry Manilow's music since I was a kid. And I don't think this oblivious driver was actually listening to Copacabana, but road rage can result in lots of unfair judgments.)

I heard a comedian recently explaining to an unconvinced audience how the driving app, Waze, has caused us to become even more competitive drivers because now we expect to arrive at the exact time the app told us we would. "At 5:57 p.m., I should be pulling into the parking lot." So what?

Remembers the days before GPS, when you'd arrive at your destination at an approximate time? If you'd accidentally gotten off the beaten path, you'd figure out how to get back on track, eventually. 

Someone once pointed out to me that if you drive 10 miles over the speed limit, you only get to a place a few minutes sooner than if you drove the speed limit. (You know this is true when you're behind a jerky driver, you watch them speed off into the sunset, only to meet up with them again at the stopped traffic up ahead. I call this "coincidental revenge.")

The only thing you definitely get by rushing is a faster heart rate.

So, in summary, I've realized that I need to slow down, and smell the sweet things, and meditate more than sporadically. Because really, where am I rushing off to?

And in hindsight, I wish I could've offered that angry driver a piece of watermelon.

Still can't smell 'em well this way unless you remove the Saran Wrap (TM), but you get my point.

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