In The Line

By G. E. Shuman

When you read this it will have been a few weeks since my family and I returned from our summer vacation in Florida. That’s right… I said our summer vacation… in Florida. And yes, you guessed it. It was hot down there. In fact, it was very hot, and very humid down there. Most people from the north, as you know, travel south in the winter. Our family freezes in Vermont in the winter, and travels south in the summer. I guess we’re just used to taking vacations in the summer, when it’s ‘warm‘. Don’t try to understand it. You will just hurt yourself.

On this particular trip to the sunshine (and sweat) state, we didn’t visit relatives, or even the big mouse. We spent the week in the Orlando area, but this time did the Universal Studios “thing”. The parks were great, the hotel was wonderful, and the lines for the Universal rides and shows were long. Some of them were very long. I never knew so many other families enjoyed standing in line with us. But they must have, as we kept seeing the same people over and over again. This was, in great part, due to the fact that neither we nor those other, eventually familiar people, had much choice, once in line. At each ride, we all blended into one vast, painfully-slow, sweaty, serpentine life form, slinking down and around another nearly endless roped off pathway. (Wow, that last sentence was depressing, but it’s too late now.) Anyway, the idea is that you can’t avoid glances at and from the same faces over and over again, as you round those countless corners at a snail’s pace.

I started wondering, during one such in-line excursion, what in the world all of us were doing there. There we were, total strangers, spending many hours and many dollars together. There we stood, in the summer heat, looking at each other and shuffling along the way, toward the end of that line, and the excitement at that end. Do you know that people come in nearly endless shapes, sizes, colors, ages and temperaments? They do in those long amusement park lines. Yes, we were all very different, but in one certain way we were all alike. We were there to enjoy the ride at the end, and to share that experience with the loved ones we brought with us. I almost laughed as I observed, over and over again, some damp-browed older guy, and then another and another, all forcing smiles, searching for any available shade, and tolerating those lines, all for the sake of the kids standing with them.

It is easy to spot things like similarities and differences in people, especially if you have all day to do it. And believe me, I had all day, for several days, to do it. I actually, eventually, found that aspect of our waiting times very interesting. Some fellow line-sharers would just stand there in silence, as if trying to sweat less or take an upright momentary nap. Some others seemed to be making the best they could of the situation, passing the time listening to music devices or talking on their phone. Kids, as always, darted back and forth under the railings and ropes, in anxious anticipation of what was to come. Here I need to tell you about one man in particular, who attracted much attention and actually made one of those lines more tolerable for some others of us. The man stood just behind my family, with his, and danced to the music coming from speakers all around us. He didn’t just dance, he danced well. And he kept on dancing, to the point that I wondered if he would stop at the end of the line. He danced, undeterred by the many eyes on him, or the changing music and moving line. He just danced, and danced, and danced in place. He did so quietly, with eyes closed and a big smile, actually enjoying the experience of the line.

I began to see that those long lines are a lot like life. If you think about it, we are all in a line, waiting, consciously or not, for the end. Some of us barely tolerate the experience, just trying to sweat less, and perhaps taking an occasional upright nap. We round each new corner with the same grumpy attitude as we did the last. I noticed in line, and might notice in life that those folks are pretty much pushed along to the end. Many in line would probably allow themselves to be carried by the others completely, if possible. Many in life, do. Others in line, and in life, do better, trying hard to do their part, always occupying their time, smiling through the trials and the heat, in great efforts to give the best experiences and the best possible memories to their families. But then there are the few who dance through the lines of life, figuratively, and sometimes, literally. We all know people like that. I happen, thankfully, to be married to such a person. They share the same trials and discomforts as all the others, but you would never know it. They too, surely get hot, and their feet must ache at times. But they still smile and enjoy the music, refusing to waste a moment of their time in line… in life, and they dance. In doing so, they make the time more tolerable, more enjoyable for the rest of us.

In one line at the park I rounded another corner, and caught a glimpse of one more damp-browed older guy, forcing a smile, searching for any available shade, and tolerating the line, all for the sake of the kids standing with him. He looked back at me, from that mirror I was looking into, and I realized how much I could learn from the other man, who danced.