A Stress Free Afternoon

A Stress Free Afternoon



The plan was to relax, take in an afternoon movie and put aside the stress of work. I didn’t care what film would be filling the big screen. The point was to wind down after a crazy week of decision making. As I pulled into the theatre parking lot, I got a jolt when I saw the line wrapped around the building. I sighed, and even considered driving out of the parking lot and heading home. But instead, I convinced myself to loosen up. After glancing at the long line again, I took an empty spot at the back of the lot

It took twenty or so minutes for the line to get around the side of the building. I figured by rounding the corner I was halfway to the ticket counter. And by being on the sidewalk in front of the theater, I could pass the time studying each framed poster on the wall beside me, letting the colorful enticements of coming attractions ease my pent up tensions.

And it was while I stood in the slow moving line with my head turned, admiring the animated poster of an upcoming space thriller that the stupid actions of some damned teenage girl shattered my plans.

The girl wore a clingy black t-shirt tucked into the hem of khaki cargo shorts. I’d noticed her skirting the line, slowly working her way back from the ticket booth, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. It didn’t take an astronaut to pick up on the girl’s intent. She was hoping to bypass the wait by inserting herself into the line with someone she knew.

Before she reached me, the girl in the cargo shorts stopped and smiled. Her hand went out and took the wrist of the girl who stood directly ahead of me. “Hey, Shiela,” the girl in the cargo shorts said, “How you doing, Sheila?”

They began to chat. Schoolgirl things. Boys and dances and teachers and stuff. I felt heat all over my face and sucked in a lungful of air. I told myself not to let it bother me. After all, when I was a kid hadn’t I cut a line in the same manner a million times? I felt myself ease up. In fact, for a moment I was even pleased with my reaction. The girl in the cargo shorts had successfully sneaked into line ahead of me and, surprisingly, I’d managed to keep my cool.

I smiled and just then she swung her face round and smiled, too. Then she said, “You don’t mind if I cut in front of you, do you?”

I held my smile, but could feel the muscles around my lips tightening like a vice. The man standing behind me grumbled. Why did the girl have to open her mouth? She was home free. She’d slipped into the line without protest. Still maintaining my smile, I dug my fingernails into my palms and in the hope that she would turn back around and resume talking to her friend, I said nothing.

She didn’t do that, though. Instead, she repeated herself, louder this time. “Sir,” she said, “It’s okay if I cut ahead of you, right?”

Why couldn’t her friend turn around and claim that she’d been saving the spot? Why was it suddenly being left to me to allow, or not to allow, the girl in the cargo shorts a wrongful place in line? I didn’t come here for a stressful situation. This was the exact kind of tense moment I came here to get away from.

The man standing behind me leaned close and whispered, “You’re not just going to let her jump in front of you, are you?”

What could I do? If I told the girl in the cargo shorts to take a hike, I’d hurt her feelings. She might even cry. Besides, the wait was still long enough that she could call someone over to harass me for being so insensitive. A brother. A boyfriend. A father. Father’s don’t like to hear their daughters cry.

If I said it was okay for her to cut in front of me, well, that would mean I’d be deciding for everyone behind me. Inevitably, the tickets for the movie would sell out and the decision facing me now would affect someone. It might even affect me. Not that it would matter at this point.

The girl reached over and tugged my shirtsleeve. I blinked. I felt the smile still painted on my face. She said, “You don’t mind if I cut in line, do you? Just say so if it bothers you and I’ll leave.” She blinked several times in rapid succession. Her eyes appeared to well a little.

The guy behind me cleared his throat.

I stood there, my fisted hands trembling, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

The girl continued to stare at me. The guy behind me cleared his throat again. I suddenly remembered that someone at work had asked me if I’d ever seen the movie ‘Babel’ with Brad Pitt. He claimed it was a fantastic, thought-provoking film, one that explores the consequences of choices. I had never seen the film.

The girl turned away. She whispered something into her friends ear and stepped from the line, probably realizing she’d put me in a pickle.

I tore into my mind. There was a blockbuster several miles from my apartment. Surely, they’d have a copy of ‘Babel’ on their shelves.

As she started past me, the girl glanced at me once more. I opened my mouth to tell her that she could have my spot, that I’d just remembered a movie on video I really wanted to see. She hesitated beside me, kept her eyes fixed on mine.

My mouth remained open, nothing escaped. And the girl in the cargo shorts shook her hair out of her eyes and headed toward the end of the line.