July 2000

I love America!

I am an American, and apparently so are a lot of people. Sure we do not number India's Indians or China's Chinese, but there certainly are a lot of people around here now a days. We have more things than other people; more crime, money, jobs, poverty - more Amusement parks. Name one other country with as many amusement parks, carnivals, rides, shows and attractions as the USofA. You can't. Yet for some reason, despite all the lights and the money and the candy and the pizza frit, we are not better off for having them. At least not as I see it.

I like rides. I like to feel like I am just about to die, then laugh and scream about it. I love those damn things. But what is it about us that we want to wait in line for an hour for a ride that gives us a few thrills for a few seconds? What is it that makes us want to pay $50 a day for the damn things?

Hundreds of people stand in the heat and the swelter, back to front with their friends and many strangers wondering why the line is so slow and if the line ends around the corner. We stare at the message tee-shirts - Make 7-Up yours, Jesus Saves, Jesus loves you, Choose the Bible above the Constitution or God will screw you big time - and the tight tee-shirts (no explanation necessary,) and that retarded guy who was drooling the last time you saw him. Tensely patient, each person takes baby steps towards their final destination - a seat in a car.

Big freekin' deal, right? No. These people seem to like it!

"Hey buddy, was it worth it?"

"Oh yeah! That ride rules!"

Sure, but what moron would complain in front of the cool people in line? He is their hero. He lived! So, full or strength and adrenaline, he shouts proudly about how wonderful his day has been! That ride could have sucked and he would have said the same predictable thing. So will each and every one of us.

When I grew up, lines were for suckers. Russians waited in line for days in hope of dry toilet paper and soft bread. People in the back of the line sat in the front of the bus with the teacher. Lines are generally sucky and un-American. Yet we find, in our adult life, a need to seek out and embrace these lines.

Why make lunch at home when I can wait behind overweight mothers and smelly middle aged office workers at a fast food joint for a meal? Why bank online when I can wait in line at my branch office every payday? Why indeed?

I am constantly confused about this because we also hate to wait. Every day I hear complaints about the bank lines and the food service. I see ignorant people at happy hour get pissed if they have to wait for a water, then leave 5%. Everyone yells at each other when they are on deadline, and it's never their fault.

This country, which is made up of (with and by) living and breathing contradictions who make religions fraught with contradictions and societal rules with ingrained contradictions, confuses me. But what's new? Every day we get up and work at our jobs to pay for the houses and food that keeps us healthy and apparently affluent. Every day we alienate ourselves from our work for a few dollars, and what do we do on the weekends by the tens of thousands? We stand in line. We wait in line.

Why do we do this to ourselves? When did we earn the right to subject ourselves to this? I guess in the confusion of our daily lives and obeying the laws which protect us from ourselves we did not find time to think about what ills we are free to impress upon us and all whom we love. Our Government gives us protection from outside armies, criminals, harmful toys and over-the-counter medication, but nothing in the Constitution tells us how to be when we are not being attended to, and for that we pay a great price.

I am not about to ask the Government to regulate the length of the lines for the coolest roller coasters. Nor am I asking for police to look in my house for more than the meth lab in the extra bathroom. Our fundamental problem is that we do not know what's good for us, so we let other people decide for us. We want to ride on a roller coaster, so some guy builds one. He builds one with more twists and turns than the last, or so it seems. He tells us to bring our value coupons for $5 off admission. Then he makes us wait; Not for the food, which is extra; Not for the novelty shirts, which are extra; and not for the games of chance, which are extra.

We wait for the ride. We stand in line for the lame ones and the good ones for one or possibly two minutes of spinning and cheating death a bit. But who are we complain if the ride is not worth the wait? Why would we admit to ourselves or our co-workers that we spent our weekend as we do our weekdays?