There are a lot of things in life that baffle me. Some of these things are big issues like how anyone can deny climate change and then there are the small, niggling, things that get stuck in my brain like the StanleySteemer commercial. (Really, you’ve never found yourself singing 1-800-Steemer?)
For instance, have you ever wondered why competitive cheerleaders wear such huge bows? Bows, in some cases, as large as a cranium of a T-Rex. Is it a salute to Texas (the birthplace of awesome cheerleaders) and the whole the bigger the hair the closer to God thing?
Because if that’s it those gigantic bows are certainly boot scooting cheerleaders in the vicinity of the celestial byways. Or could it be an aerodynamic thing and the bows act as mini wings to increase the cheerleaders lift coefficient. Perhaps it’s all of the above.
Then there’s the unsolved mystery of why TV anchors choose to wear sleeveless dresses when it’s 16 degrees out. This boggles the mind. They’re in a studio, usually sitting next to the meteorologist with all sorts of weather seals of approval and they’ve probably heard the forecast, at least, 10 times in the past hour, and yet they don’t know it’s below freezing out.
The very worst is when a meteorologist is sleeve free and standing by the weather map warning everyone that the wind chill is minus 2. Hello, are you not listening to your own forecast? Please go grab a sweater. You’ve got goose bumps.
The baffler of all bafflers in my life is, hands down, why is it that every single line I’m in automatically gets slower? Not sort of slow, but s-l-o-w as in sloth like, as in all forward momentum ceases.
At the airport, even with TSA pre-check, even if there’s only one other person in line, as soon as I take my place, I can guarantee you the line will not move again for at least ten minutes. Even my family refuses to get in the same line with me. Yes, they would rather forgo pre-check and stand in a line that’s serpenting down the airport corridor than get behind me.
I can’t blame them.
Last month at KCI, when I was the second person in line, one away from the sweet, sweet freedom of being cleared to move onward to dumping my belongings on the conveyor belt, the human in front of me, of course, had an issue requiring a gaggle of TSA agents and I think the airport police.
By the time I was allowed to proceed in a forward motion 20 minutes had gone by. When I finally cleared security, my family, who had very smartly gotten in another line that was “me free,” was already sitting gate adjacent, with fresh Starbucks that they sipped while smirking at me.
This line thing even applies to driving. Whatever lane I change into you can bet there will be a red light or some sort of snafu that makes it the slowest on the road. And if you’re ever behind me at a drive thru prepare yourself for an historic wait to get that Egg McMuffin.
It’s gotten so bad I have actually started apologizing to anyone that is standing behind me in line. I feel it’s a public service issue and I need to share that thanks to me this line is going take forever. Sure, it may not look that way, but trust me it’s going to be awhile.
I’m really starting to think I’m cursed or worse, but infinitely more interesting, that I’m some sort of alien. Perhaps, my interplanetary DNA is causing some sort of cosmic breakdown that’s resulting in me being line challenged. Hmm, something to really think about as I (sigh) stand in line.
Reach Sherry Kuehl at firstname.lastname@example.org, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.