Standing in Line

One of my pet peeves is waiting in line. Daily cafeteria lines in high school and college come to mind, as do security checks at airports and sporting events. My one cruise experience was even worse, as we were herded like cows through a cattle chute as we prepared to board the ship. I’m not much for small talk with people I don’t know, so I often carry a book when I anticipate standing in a line for an extended period of time. Girl Scout motto: Be prepared!

 

Disney’s FastPass+ and Cedar Point’s Fast Lane+ allow those willing to dish out extra money to skip the line (or at least access the shorter line) is brilliant. My commitment to the idea of equal access for all conflicts horribly with paying to cut the line, so it’s a struggle. However, I’ve also waited over an hour in the blazing sun without any water to go on an amusement ride that lasted about two minutes – and scared me half to death. If I ever get to Disney again, and if Disney resumes their FastPass+, I will be faced with a moral dilemma.   

 

One of the benefits of the pandemic is that it’s cut down on the time spent standing in line. I was thinking about that as I waited in the queue at a vaccination site that processes a thousand of my friends and neighbors each day. I’ve avoided many usual lines by going on-line, and even the DMV wasn’t crowded. The only times I’ve stood in a line of any size over the past year has been for early voting and to get a COVID-19 vaccine. Otherwise, just not happening. Will Rogers understands: “The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.” 

 

The two “V’s” of  2020-2021 are worth waiting for. However, it’s ironic that doing my civic duty and my medically-necessary duty (for myself and others) brought me into the closest contact I’ve come to strangers over the course of the pandemic.

 

When I went to the vaccine center, I was prepared for a wait if needed, with my book in hand and my cell-phone charged. I watched and listened as conversations started up around me. I also witnessed the kindness of strangers, as an older woman with a walker was offered a space closer to the front of the line (I later found out she was ninety-three). Had it been a hot day, perhaps the prepared Girl Scouts would have distributed water. Because we care about each other in community, we do whatever we can to make our line-waiting more comfortable for all of us. Unless we live in Georgia on election day.

 

But here’s my question. Why the line at all? At the amusement park, during peak hours, more people want to get on the ride than it can accommodate. Some rides are more popular than others, and therefore, we’re good with waiting, although do grumble a bit. But with voting? As individual counties and as a country as a whole, we know to expect a certain number of people at each polling place. An equitable distribution of polling locations and voting machines seems like a better answer than banning the distribution of food and water to those waiting for hours – that is, if we believe every American citizen should have a vote (that pesky fifteenth amendment).

 

And with the vaccines? I’m grateful for the tireless efforts of the scientific community in developing the vaccine. But why wasn’t there a simultaneous effort to create a comprehensive on-line sign-up system to schedule appointments? We can purchase tickets for baseball games on-line, down to the individual seats and date – 40,000 at a time. Someone could have sorted out how to match vaccines and arms so ninety-three-year-old women weren’t standing in line.

 

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” Winnie the Pooh gives us perfect advice for a lazy river in the noon-day sun. But we’re needing to draw upon every skill as we paddle for our lives in the raging storm to get home safe and sound with no more losses. All hands on board is the watchword for today.