It’s that time of year where
the world seems by nature to simply be more crowded. We’re all out and about,
trying to get things done, to plan, to socialize, to shop. Everyone has a
never-ending to-do list and no time to do it all. So—we’re rushing, we’re
hustling, we’re busy.
And I’ll admit it, I think I
might have personal space issues.
However, I’m pretty sure,
when we’re standing in line at the bagel store, that if you’re riding me like a
backpack and the cashier thinks that your daughter is my daughter because she’s basically climbing up my hip…you’re
crowding me. There’s no need to crush up behind me like we’re in the mosh pit
at a Violent Femmes concert. We’re just ordering breakfast. And I promise,
you’ll get your dozen mixed bagels just as soon as I get my son’s egg sandwich
and one large, strong coffee with cream. Because, when you’re standing on top
of me? I get all edgy, and antsy, and I start to grow annoyed by your sugary
and overly-loud conversation with your child, who I would normally think was
kind of cute in her princess nightgown and fuzzy pink slippers. I see that
you’re still in your slippers as well, so this Saturday morning should be a
relaxed, comfortable time for all of us. No crowding necessary. Just take a
step back and let me catch my breath.
And let’s not even talk about
how pushy you are in your car. I’m simply trying to enter the slow lane on the
freeway from the on-ramp. I’m not trying to edge you out of a trophy at the
Indy 500 or to stop you from “winning” the merge. I just need to get into your
lane at some type of normal speed before I run out of space and crash into the quickly-approaching
concrete retaining wall. God forbid there should be a lane change that happens
peacefully, without you up-shifting into Mach 5 to make sure you get ahead of
me. I see your elementary school bumper sticker. I know where your kid goes to
school. I’ll probably see you at the next PTA meeting and you’ll be super
embarrassed when you remember how you completely transformed your face into a
purple exploding ghoul-mask simply because I got on the freeway.
Hey, I also realize that
there are literally no parking spaces. Anywhere. So we’ve got to just relax
while we’re on our fourth loop of the same stretch of asphalt. Enjoy that song
on the radio. We’re like airplanes running a holding pattern over the landing
strip. Eventually, one of us is going to get lucky, but you’re not driving a
snow plow, so chances are if I’m closer, I’ll get the spot, despite your
attempts to vehicularly bully me out of the way.
It’s no secret that I don’t
love crowds (does anyone?), but if I’m in a crowded venue, I accept that we are
all going to be squished together. That’s okay. What I’m objecting too, more
often, is the lack of awareness that we’re all here. Together.
So maybe it’s actually more
about manners than breathing room. We share space in the world with many, many
people and we’re all just trying to handle our days with a little grace and
happiness and hopefully, once in a while, some generosity. Some people are more
successful at accomplishing this than others. I think they’re the thoughtful
ones. Because, you know? The time to discuss—loudly and at length, via cell
phone—your poor father-in-law’s recent batch of colonoscopy complications is not while you’re perusing women’s knits
in the department store. I’m here too, trying to pick out a cute sweater for my
niece, and it’s hard to enjoy a rare, blissful moment of shopping for something
that isn’t pre-packaged for school lunches while I’m force-listening to your
blow-by-blow of the medical procedure and its messy aftermath. That’s not
something I want to participate in as a bystander. It’s not how I want to
remember my fleeting public encounter with you.
What I’d rather remember? Is
that time that you called out after me, holding out the wallet that had fallen
out of my purse without me noticing it. You really saved me that day. I love
thinking about that time you stopped in the street, put down all of your
packages, and rummaged through your purse for a band-aid for my wailing and
bleeding toddler. And remember when you offered to let me step ahead of you in
the line at the grocery store, since I had just the one item? And on the day
when I was literally oozing grief after losing my dad, you told me that my
scarf matched my eyes just perfectly and that I had such lovely hair. You had
no idea how that kindness touched me, lifted me up.
We’re all pretty good about
the auto-pilot manners. Most of us hold doors open for the people behind us and
throw around a please and thank you to the grocery checker or the food server
who is delivering our cheeseburgers. But we need to occasionally slow down and
look up at the world around us. Remember to take the time to care. Let’s all
try to make sure we’re treading lightly in the space we’re occupying. Just give
the people nearby a little breathing room, a little consideration.
So maybe, just once in a
while, go ahead and wave that car in on the freeway in front of you.
Compliment the person next to
you.
Take a deep breath.
Smile.
