The other day I had the (dubious) honor of (inexplicably) injuring myself in a way that once again lacked an exciting story about badger wresting or wrangling up rogue grocery carts.
I have no idea how I did it, but coming down the stairs I heard a crack in my foot and was reduced to crawling/hobbling around for two days.
Again, the cat was not helpful in this situation a la Lassie in fetching me ice, but instead alternated exasperated glances between the catnip bag on the fridge and my skinny ass crawling around on the floor.
Noted, my furry feline friend, noted.
But that’s neither here nor there.
I had X-rays, it’s strained/overused and I’m moving on with my life, but working from home that first day reminded me of something: I don’t understand people.
Going through emails that morning—ice on the foot and tea in my cup—I turned on the Today show for what is apparently now six hours of viewing. Aside from drunk Hoda and corny Roker, they showed thousands of people camped out and waiting for the One Direction concert on the plaza—the next morning.
Some of these people had been camped out for four days.
FOUR DAYS!
These people—mostly young women—had been eating, sleeping and standing in line outside in the cold to hear a boy band from a view of the stage comparable to the view of Mars from my lawn.
A mom said she took her kids out of school for two days and held their place in line overnight while the kids went home to take a test. One girl from Pennsylvania said she got fired for missing work for two days.
To stand in the cold. In the street. To hear three songs from a band.
And then there are the “Twi-hards” who were reportedly camping out in L.A. for up to a week before the release of the final movie in the Twilight Saga series. I repeat, they were camping outside for a week to get tickets to a movie that’s done in two hours.
Do these people not know that the movie will be in theaters for months?
I’ll assume these are the same people that will camp outside Best Buy for two days and trample old women and children to buy a TV for $100 on Black Friday. Given the fact that I have an extreme aversion to the consumerism aspect to the holidays, these people—many of who spend the actual day of Thanksgiving camped out in a lot and not with drunk nuns—remain a mystery to me.
Perhaps it’s simply my lack of attachment to material things or my preference for indoor plumbing, warmth and sanity, but unless it was a vital organ primped and primed for transplant—or a new foot, as of late— I can’t think of anything I would camp out for days in anticipation of purchasing.
I suppose more power to them.
But you won’t catch me camped out for a concert or a discounted microwave any time soon. Call me a weirdo, call me cheap, call me boring—you wouldn’t be the first person to do so.
In fact, take a number. Get in line.
Like the blog? Buy the book. Save a kitten.
So spill it. What have you waited a ridiculously long amount of time in line for? A concert? A meal? A pre-holiday sale?
