Yesterday I was waiting to pay for my bag of carrots for stew on the express line at Tops when a snafu occurred at the register.
It always happens to me; I get on the line and it stops moving. It’s a curse I have. There should be a ‘Slow Moving Vehicle’ sign on the back of my jacket. Do not follow me.
The lady in front didn’t know she had enough points to claim a prize, and time was running out. She couldn’t decide on the appliance, then she had to make a phone call, then they were out-of-stock on the item she chose. After all was said and done, she settled on a griddle. Her Greek yogurt was then discovered to be damaged, so we waited for the bag boy to get another.
When my friends from New York City come up for a country visit to folksy Cazenovia, they cannot understand how I manage to endure these small town delays.
Whether I’m on line at the hardware store where a conversation can break out at any moment about the cat, the fleas or the weather, or at the filling stations where people chat to their neighbors about the price of gas, the Middle East or the weather even after they’re done pumping.
Urbanites seem to be inclined toward speed reading, speed walking, speed dating and even speed yoga. I laugh with my best drawl and tell them lackadaisically that what we put up with for our lack of a fast lane is more than made up for with our absence of traffic.
In modern physics, light is regarded as the fastest thing in the universe at about 186,282.397 miles per second. But there is speculation about super luminous particles known as tachyons having the strange properties that, when they lose energy, they gain speed. Consequently, when they gain energy, they slow down. The slowest speed possible for tachyons is the speed of light.