If you could slow down an action that usually zooms by, or speed up an event that normally drags on, which would you choose, and why?
“It takes time, you know,” she said to me, giving me the I’m-so-not-rolling-my-eyes look.
“I hate lines.”
“Nobody much likes them, but it is what it is. Fact of life.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Well then I’m obviously in the wrong life.”
“Wrong life or wrong time? I doubt lines elsewhere or when would be much different.”
I snorted, actually rolling my eyes. I didn’t have her patience.
So, what if I could speed up time? Surely lines would move faster? So much of life was wasted just standing in lines. I’m sure somebody somewhere had figured out the percentage – most everything else in our lives was reduced to percentages these days – why not standing in lines?
I sat down on the edge of the road, diddling a finger in the sand. Stood up again. Looked up and down the line, trying to decide if we’d moved an inch since last time I’d looked. Sat down. Stood up. Sighed.
She was ignoring me now.
Maybe I was too impatient, but lines burned me. I was the kind of person who, if the restaurant sported a waiting list, went elsewhere. I avoided lines with the persistence and skill of a sprinter, though obviously one trapped in the pack, other sprinters gouging me with their cleats.
“What the heck isn’t this line moving?”
She focused back on me. “Tanja wants a pony ride. This is the line for the pony rides. There are only six people in front of us for god’s sake.”
Tanja tugged my hand, dancing at the end of my arm.
“Can I ride the spotted one, Daddy? CanIcanIcanI?”
The ponies would be on their last legs by the time we arrived. I didn’t tell her that though.
“We’ll see, sweetie,” I said “when we get there.”
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