Yesterday I took Gussie to see a movie.
The movie theatre that we usually go to is a 16-plex theatre and you have to climb a gazillion escaltors to the actual theatre.
When we get on line to buy our tickets, there’s a nice grandparently couple — on the young-ish side, in front of us. It’s obvious that they are leisurely enjoying a lazy, misty summer day. Not me though! No, not me! I multi-task! Listen, if I’m going to go see a movie on a Monday, I’m gettin’ in and I’m gettin’ out and I’m not relaxin’ while I’m there.
Anyway, I buy our tickets and we catch up with the “we’re-clearly-never-in-a-hurry” Gram and Gramps couple on the escalator.
Now we are stuck behind them for the entire ride to the top of this monster of a building.
Ho-hum. They’re just campin’, campin’, campin’ out on the escalator and now we’re behind them, being held hostage for like a gazillion minutes, as we make a slow approach to the top the first of like a dozen of these escalator staircases!
Can you feel my pain? I mean escalators, in my world, were designed to speed you along, not to give you a reason to “take a load off, Sally!”
While we stand — when we could be movin’, movin’ movin’, by the way — caught behind “the relaxed”, I look over at Gussie and I give her “the sign”. (We have our own personal sign for emergency moments such as this). She nods back at me, confirming that she understands what must be done. You see, she knows the drill —
We’ve got to pass these slow pokey pokes as we get off of this escalator or suffer the consequences of standing behind them for an eternity while they go on and on about what they should have for dinner!!!!
As we approach the top of the escalator and position ourselves to take the lead, I give Gussie the other one of “our signs” — a double hand signal. She nods back at me confirming that she’s gotten the instruction that –
we must, however, execute with total dignity.
Alas, we arrive at the top of the first mountain and:
We get to the top and pass the two “got-all-the-time-in-the-world” dynamic duo! Funny thing though, they actually try and race us, forcing us against our will to speed up and snatch our lead right back! We practically have to run to just barely stay ahead of them. But we did it! Ha! You lose, guys! We win!
Ahhhh. Sitting in my movie seat, it dawns on me that I always just want to be first. I started thinking about how I covertly race in life to always be first; to get my spot at the gym, to be first in line at the bank…
I like to be first!
When Gussie was two years old I kept tripping over her. She would always end up standing still right under my feet. It would always happen and it drove me nuts and never made sense until one day I realized that what she was doing was — being first. She would position herself in front of me and then stop so that she could be first. So, this condition is clearly childish but genetic and, not my fault at all.
On our way out of the movie, I see Grams and I make an attempt at trying to restore my dignity by nodding politely at her. She looks at Gramps and then gives him a sign; clearly their own personal sign for:
“Hey, look, there goes that WEIRD-O again”