Thursday, June 4, 2009

Stuck behind the Slow-skis

(Pre-Script: This post makes the most sense if you have ever been inside of my head. In lieu of that, you will need to read it as the song, "Mysterious Ways," by U2, plays in the background, so go down to the playlist, click on that song, #24, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait.) (...still waiting...)

I have a tendency to be a fast walker, or at least I like to maintain a brisk, steady pace, especially when my final destination is leading me to gelato and chocolate cake. So there I was, marching once again to the beat of the very loud and fast drum which apparently no one can hear but me when suddenly,

... SCREECH...

I got stuck behind the Slowskis. I think they were out for a walk while they were waiting for their Internet to boot up. You know who the Slowski's are; they are also sometimes known as the Spread-Out-Across-The-Entire-Walkway-ski's. Apparently the Slowski's all hear the same drum, the one that tells them never to go out walking unless they are in a whole group together. Even just two Slowski's can make up an entire group, as long as they take up the entire width of the particular walkway we all are on. Their drum also tells them to stop and notice everything around them except for the faster walkers behind and rapidly approaching them who only want to pass without being hit by oncoming traffic on one side or smashed into a wall on the other.
So there I was behind the Slowski's trying to decide the value of my life thus far, and if it was worth the risk of possibly being pummeled by oncoming traffic to try and pass. I did some mental math: how old am I now, 33? Yes, I am 33, although at about 32 I reached the point where I forget exactly what number in the 30's I am, and actually have to stop and think sometimes when people ask. Remember when there was a TV show called Thirty something? I remember thinking "That sounds so...OLD" but now I say "Thirty something" because you know without thinking that at some point you turned 30, and you know without thinking that you have not yet gotten to 40, but the exact number in between you sometimes have to think about.
So there I was, thinking, "I am 33, not yet 33.5, but beyond that, is it worth risking my life when this could possibly be my last earthy encounter with gelato on this earth?" I have not even been to Italy yet to taste the gelato there. Maybe if I were in Italy, and had just eaten gelato there, instead of Los Gatos, California, where I actually was, and I was stuck behind the Italian Slowski's, I would be more willing to risk my life, a happy and contented woman with a smile on my face.
So then there I was, realizing that the Slowski's are everywhere on this planet, they are unavoidable if you ever plan to actually step outside of your own house. In fact, it is possible that the name "Slowski" originated in Italy, since it ends in a vowel. All Italian names end in a vowel.
Think about it.
Depending on where you are in the world, and at what age, navigating to get in front of the Slowski's for gelato may or may not be worth risking your life for. So far, it has not been worth it to me, although I am quite certain that any gelato in Heaven has got to be at least a million times bigger and better than all the gelato in Italy and Los Gatos, California combined. I am also quite certain that in Heaven, you do not have to wait behind the Slowski's.
I remember when I was kid imagining that in Heaven, the golden rule applies, so two kids would be standing in line for the drinking fountain, and the first kid would say to the kid behind him, "you go first," and the kid behind him would say, "No you, go first" and the first kid would say "no, YOU go first, please" and on and on and back and forth for eternity.


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