The Waiting Game

I am not a very patient person. That is not to say that I am unable to be patient, but I just don’t idle well. I always need to be doing something. I need to be actively using some part of my body (whether it is physically or mentally). I can’t just sit. As such, I’m about as good at waiting as Paris Hilton is at practicing abstinence

This impatientness (is that even a word, if it isn’t…I just made it one) is not a new thing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve not been able to just sit around. For Gods sake, I didn’t even listen to 95% of my college graduation. What did I do instead? Save the world from evil on my Game Boy. That’s right I played a video game during my college graduation. In my defense I may have actually listened to the commencement speech had LMU not gotten THE icon for modern education, Goldie Hawn. During my high school award ceremony, the one where they give out scholarships and honor those who are graduating cum laude (that’s right, cum laude, I’m a fucking genius), I had to be called twice to go up because I was listening to a basketball game on my cell phone, while not paying attention. Yes it is what you think; I had my friend put his phone by the TV so I could hear what going on during a Lakers Game...ohh come on, give me a break, it was the playoffs.

I don’t say all this in an effort to get you to think that I don’t pay attention to important things. That is from the truth. Rather, it is portray my dislike for waiting around. As such, I’d like to take you on a tour of my least favorite places I find myself miserably wasting away as I wait.

Traffic

I’m a good driver. This is a fact. Some people may consider the predictable speeding and quick lane changes to be hazardous, but what do they know. It is very unfortunate that I rarely get to utilize my driving abilities. Los Angeles has some of the worst traffic I’ve ever seen in my life. If you are driving any where in LA between the hours of…ohh I don’t know I’ll just take a guess…5AM and 10 PM, you can pretty well take it to the bank that you are going to be sitting in bumper to bumper traffic. Not like bumper to bumper where you are going 10 MPH while riding the car in front of you the whole way. We are talking bumper to bumper like a 3rd party parking lot out side of a major sporting event. Cars pulled so close to you, it would be impossible to get out of your car…if, for whatever reason, you so desired to do so. Cars pointed the wrong way. People eerily standing right by your car.

Sitting in LA traffic is like sitting at cubicle but crappier. You are in a confined space, with people on all sides of you, making noise, and the smell of the air is less than pleasant. However, at least in a cubicle you can do pretty much what you please. In a cubicle I could read up about the history of Bahrain if I so desired, I could play video games on my cell phone, I could do a crossword puzzle, I could STAND UP. Pretty much, it boils down to being able to doing anything but just sitting. Can you do all this while driving? Well I’m sure you could, but then you would be that asshole who is causing all the traffic for me.

Airport

Let me just clarify, when I say airport I mean anything that has to do with airports, including, but not limited to: airport security lines, airplanes and airport terminals. Although, I have always disliked airports it was just recently that I was reminded of this fact. A friend of mine was sitting at a JFK terminal because her flight was delayed. This reminded me of what I hate most about flying…

Planes are never fucking on time. I don’t understand how it’s possible that such a developed industry can be so disorganized. We can pin point the exact cell, of the millions in the body, that is making someone sick; we can build weapons that can decimate an entire city; we can create computers that can think like a human; but for some reason we can’t figure out, with any kind of precision or accuracy, when an airplane is going to arrive at point B after leaving point A and when it will be leaving point B to go to point C. Perhaps a prerequisite to being a flight coordinator is failing a math test composed solely of, ‘If a train leaves New York at 5:30 and is traveling at 65 miles per hour…’ questions.

It would be great to have a pilot’s job. You can be late to work everyday and it is thought to be normal or expected. You can do you job slowly and be behind schedule for everything you do, and it is perfectly fine with your employer. You get to make lame jokes and they will be heard because people are forced to listen. Man I wish I could charge 200 people $150/hour, just to do a crappy job and then KNOW that they’ll come back to my company. Where do I sign up?

It wouldn’t be so bad waiting in the terminal for your plane to arrive if there were anything worth doing in an airport. Sure, you could always go to the bar at the terminal; however, if a Big Mac costs $6.50, at the airport, guess how much a Jack and Coke is going to cost. So even if I were to spend my time in the airport bar, I would end up spending more on my bar tab than I would a set of hip, platinum teeth.

This brings me to actually waiting in the terminal. I’m not sure whose idea it was, but someone that works for the airport decided that sheet metal bent into the shape of a chair would be a comfortable substitute for a cushioned seat. Those things couldn’t possibly be more uncomfortable. Well I suppose they could hire someone to stand behind you and poke you in the head with a stick…that might be more uncomfortable…but I digress. The chairs in the airport terminal look and feel like they were designed during a blackout. The armrests are either way to high or way to low. All the chairs touch so when one person moves in their seat, everyone moves with them. Ohh yeah, did I mention they are as hard as bedrock.

Ok so you’ve made it out of the terminal, I hope you are prepared for the best part of flying...actually flying in a plane. There is nothing better than being packed into seats that have about as much wiggle room as the back seat of a Porsche Boxter, while being forced to listen to idiotic jokes made by the pilot all while you are completely unable to do anything about your situation for the duration of your flight. Sitting in a plane seat, is a lot like being stuck with a hot iron. Both…umm…suck.

Ohh the memories I have of a stiff neck, empty stomach, blood shot eyes and popped ears. I can’t wait for the next time I hop on a plane!


DMV

Waiting at the DMV wouldn’t be so bad, if you didn’t spend most of the time wondering why it is you are waiting there in the first place. How is it that the rest of the world is online, and the DMV isn’t? Last time I was there, I had to get a replacement I.D. Am I crazy for thinking that this is something I should be able to do online? Jump to DMV.com, click on order new license, fill in my name, address, social security number etc., click the box that says use same picture as before, click the box that says I agree to their terms of service, fill out a form for my credit card number and click Send. Seems simple enough. But no. They force me to enter the gates of Hades instead.

Ok, fine I can deal with having to actually go into the DMV, but for God’s sake, why does it take so long to do anything there. If you don’t have an appointment (lets face it…who really makes an appointment for the DMV), you are in for, at least, a 45 minute wait. I understand that work has to be done, but I can only assume that people are there for similar reasons as I. I have NEVER spent more than 5 minutes at the same window at the DMV. Yet, somehow everyone else there needs 30 minutes worth of attention, as if they don’t get enough at home.

The DMV does have one upside though…people watching. The trends in the DMV are very unique. For instance, no one smiles, ever. I’m not certain why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one smile cracked, whether looking at a worker or a patron. It probably has something to do with how unpleasant the place is…but that’s just a shot in the dark.

There is always at least one person, normally bearing very thick glasses, who is sitting in the seat closest to the eye exam (you know, where you have to read off the letters from 5 feet away), trying to memorize each line. This always provides at least 5 minutes of entertainment. If you are close enough to them you should be able to see them look up, mouth the letters of a line to themselves, then look back down with eyes closed as they try to recite the correct order to themselves. This is the perfect time to flip open your phone and pretend to talk on it, just loud enough so the memorizer can you hear you. When he lowers his head and begins to recite the letters, quickly throw a letter, that is up on the board, into your ‘conversation,’ then watch as he mouths the letter you mentioned, realizes his mistake, opens his eyes and swears at himself for messing up.

After my most recent birthday, I had to renew my license (something that should be able to be done online damnit), part of this process was taking the aforementioned eye exam. That day I learned that the employees, of the DMV, are not found of jokes and take this test very seriously. Normally, you would read off the letters as you saw them. Instead of listing them, “F-L-P-R-E,” I responded by saying it phonetically, “flip-re.” The lady who was conducting the test gave me a look similar to the look your girlfriend gives you when you just said something to piss her off. She then told me that I would fail the test if I didn’t do it correctly…what you can’t take a joke?

Something else I can’t quite put my finger on is why, whenever I go to the DMV, I am the only customer there who speaks English. Makes me wonder why the workers there are mostly English speakers. I’ve heard Spanish, French, Asian (Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese etc. they all sound the exact same), German, Swahili, something that sounded like a person with Downs Syndrome trying speak Russian, and something that sounded like a mix between Arabic and Hawaiian. Yet, I’ve never heard English…ever. It’s as if the DMV is the meeting place for all of the surrounding cities ethnic groups.