Opinion
We’re Acting Like Kids When The Teacher Leaves The Room
It’s both horrifying and freeing.
I was jonesing for Subway. I needed a 6-inch steak and cheese on flatbread, and I needed it now.
I trundled over to the BP station, parked at a pump, spent a month’s salary on a tank of gas, masked up, and entered the store.
I turned right. The Subway was dark and empty. The chairs were still stacked on the tables.
I stopped in my tracks, hungry, confused. It was 10:00 a.m. Where were the glistening mounds of flat yellow egg-product? Where were the moist piles of flat white egg-product (my personal favorite)? Where was anything?
Clearly whoever worked at this Subway (or rather, previously worked here) hadn’t bothered to come in. I stumbled back towards the door, briefly attempting to forage in the wasteland of stale gas station donuts and questionable egg salad, but nothing interested me.
I wanted Subway, dammit. I had a coupon.
The Southwest Airlines cancellations bring it all home. We are now living in Soviet Russia (‘Fly Aeroflot!’), where planes might take off, or they might not. You go to the airport and you find out. What else can you do? Maybe you go home, maybe you sleep at the airport in case the…
