The Off Seasoner:

I hated the feeling I was having. I felt frustrated and irritated by a slight inconvenience. But it does happen to all of us, sooner or later. These minor problems from our daily lives start to add up. You merge onto the highway and pick a lane and it is the wrong lane. Cars pass on the left and the right and you sit there, wondering how long you should wait to change lanes. And how is this happening, what is wrong with this lane anyway? Too many cars? Just one driver going 5 miles per hour too slow and ruining it for everyone else? And as soon as you change lanes you run the risk of bringing your bad luck with you. The lane you changed into will become the wrong lane, as cars whiz by in the lane you were just so quick to free yourself from.

The same thing happens at the grocery store, all the time. Maybe it’s not even that busy. But you realize too late that the person in front of you at the checkout counter with only three items is actually the old lady we all know and avoid. The one who takes forever to finish her transaction because she is writing a check. Or her food stamps don’t cover one of the items, and she will argue with the cashier about it. Or she is paying in exact change with her slow, shaky hands. And if you change for a different cashier, after all the time you have already spent waiting, it will end up taking you longer to get out of that store and on with your life in the end.

But of course the line you are currently in, the grandma line, can’t possibly move until you have abandoned it and are waiting to check out one cashier over. You watch helplessly as the grandma finally manages to finish her business and wobbles away. Someone will swoop in at just that moment to be checked out seamlessly, without having to wait at all. And you stand there, slack-jawed. Helpless and hideous in the florescent lighting. Holding too many items that are too heavy and you should have just gotten a cart when you first came in. Oh, why don’t I ever just get a cart? You think to yourself. And they sashay away, the person that should be you. They have successfully completed their purchase, not a care in the world. They are already onto the next event that awaits them in their blessed and serendipitous life.

Personally, my least favorite is getting in line at the worst time. I cannot tell you how often I have joined the back of a long line, only to be the last person in that line. I will get all the way to the front and still no one will have lined up behind me. It is so unfair that I had to wait patiently that whole time but now no one else has to suffer. Only after I have ordered will a line start forming again behind me.

I found myself in just this unfortunate situation as I approached the Cuban Coffee stand in Key West. I was on my way to the only public ferry to Dry Tortugas. Dry Tortugas is a former US fortress and national state park known for snorkeling in the clear shallow waters 70 miles off the coast of Key West. The ferry left only once per day. As a gift for my husband’s birthday, I paid too much money for tickets and booked our spots months in advance. I needed to make that boat ride. But the first order of business was to satiate my debilitating coffee dependency.

I was in a hurry but I had some time. 10 minutes to be exact, before I needed to be walking to the dock. The line was long but moving. I estimated that I had enough time, and that it would be worth it to wait. In the worst case scenario, I could bail from the line before ordering and pray to the coffee gods there would be some caffeine served aboard the ferry. I was trying to be patient and not doing a good job. Finally, it was about to be my turn. I was clearly in line, and startled with an abrupt and accusatory Are you in line? coming from right behind me. I turned to find myself face to face and very close to a disgruntled homeless man.

He was in rough shape. Wild blue eyes milky with phlegm and crusting at the corners. Bright white hair sticking straight up. Burnt to a permanent and alarming bright red hue, his skin was accented with large scabby patches in various stages of formation and healing. He clutched a tattered black bag in one hand and was shaking like a leaf.

Startled by the proximity and how unaware I had been of his approach, I responded with a curt yes and turned back around. What made the situation more surprising to me is that this is a pet peeve of mine. I am always asking people if they are in line, especially at airports. I hate it when people are standing loosely grouped so that I can’t tell if they are in line or not.

It is so annoying to be waiting around for nothing. To think you are in line, only to see the actual line form in front of you. And then, there is not real recourse. Because it was your own mistake for assuming. You need to line up behind the people that technically arrived after you. I was perceived to be exhibiting this behavior myself, and I was stunned. It was Carl Jung who said that the things we don’t like in other people are actually what we don’t like in ourselves.

The waiting stretched on. I stole some furtive glances back at the man who had approached me. I wanted to pay for his order, but could there be anything more humiliating and humbling than incorrectly assuming someone was homeless? That someone needed your help when they didn’t, and hadn’t asked? But there was no mistaking it, this guy was living on the streets and unwell.

Finally, I was next in line. I turned back around and offered to buy him whatever he was going to have. But he refused. No, are you sure? I asked. No. So you aren’t going to buy anything? he retorted. He was irritated and baffled. Somehow during this short exchange, he became convinced of what he had suspected from the beginning. I was wasting his time and must not be in line after all. He stalked past me and took my turn to order. The woman at the counter knew him and knew what he was having. He paid with cash and disappeared with his coffee. It was undeniable that my feeble offer of unsolicited help was received as a hindrance, just as I had feared.

With anyone else I would have said, or, what is more likely given these circumstances, shrieked, Excuse me, I’m in line! But with this unexpected twist, I was helpless. He had refused my offer of money, which I was not lacking at the time. Instead, he took from the exchange something that was much more valuable to me in that moment, my time.

I don’t know if this man was struggling with mental illness or addiction, but I can assume. And it could be that I’m projecting, but something about this interaction, specifically his frustration when trying to communicate with me, reminded me of my interactions with a member of my immediate family with severe mental illness. The insinuation of my ineptness and his own dramatic self-assuredness. I was in his way, and he was so impatient. Where does he even need to go? I wondered.

I always wonder where this confidence comes from. That everyone else is wrong and they are right. When everyone is telling you that you are sick, that you need help. People that you know love and care about you. That steadfast refusal. Is it just the illness? Could it also be a personality trait? How does someone come to be so prideful and so self-assured regardless of their circumstances?

Finally, even further delayed, I was able to get my little cortadito coffee treat and board the ferry, moving on with my life that is of course, filled to the brim with charm and overflowing with blessings. The least of which is my health. And I am hardly able to recognize or appreciate any of it due to my nearly constant state of irritation, worry, and self-absorption as the little things start to pile up. Unless someone happens along and shocks me out of it by taking my place in line. Someone that when I take the time to actually look at them, I can see myself reflected in, as well as those whom I love the most.