All is Groovy?
This past week—I forget which day, because they all run together—we made a spontaneous plan.
Drive to a beach community, pick up a pizza, tailgate, and park on a sloping street to watch the sunset from a safe distance.
This little adventure delighted all of us, that is except for Grumpy Dad, who got a little ticked when I saw all “those darn kids” walking around this particular coastal community unmasked and mingling as though there was nothing going on.
My anger, however, spiked when I got in line at the pizza shop, stood on one of the black duct tape hatch marks on the sidewalk and a young unmasked couple proceeded to cut the line.
“Our pizza’s ready,” the young lady said, dressed as though she had some place to be. A sharp contrast to unshaven Dad Bod me.
“Mine is too,” I said.
“Us too,” the couple six feet behind me said. “We’ve already ordered.”
“I’m sorry,” the young lady said, “did you say you already ordered?”
She had since sent her boyfriend to the table where the hostess of the pizza shop was seeing customers.
“Yes,” we said from the queue. “The line starts back there.”
The young lady was petulant, unmoved. She wasn’t going to wait in line with the rest of we paupers.
When her boyfriend made eye contact with the hostess and pleaded his case that his pizza was ready and couldn’t he just grab it here, the hostess cheerfully said, “Hi love, did you get in line?”
The couple finally relented and found their place around the corner, 36 feet behind me.
The West Coast is odd. On one hand, “all is groovy.” On the other hand it’s “Give me liberty or give me death.”
These days we’re teetering on the edge of both—feels like it could go either way. I suppose it always feels like that in California.
I completely get why everyone wants to be out and about and unmasked, yet with the largest population in the country, wouldn’t you think that if the majority of citizens cooperated for just a bit more, we could turn this thing around?
When I got back to the car with the food, I went on a tirade about those who think the rules don’t apply to them.
My wife simply placed her hand over mine, and as she often does, she advised me to let it go. Those moments of her grace remind me that chiding a situation—or a stranger—is never worth losing a moment over.
This story, of course, could simply have been about our trip to eat pizza and watch the sunset as a family, right?