Everyone Has a Story

I admit, I can be impatient...especially when I have things to do and places to be.  Take today for example; I had many stops to make - fairly early this morning - before I sent my project off...so I was focused and on a mission.  I arrive at the the Mailboxes Etc. type place to have my items notarized when there is a woman ahead of me.  She's just yakking away with the clerk oblivious to everything else.  The clerk sees me shift my weight (as I tend to do when I am quickly losing my cool) and looks me square in the eye.  I am sure that my face gave me away: shut her the hell up and move it along already, I am in a hurry!  After the clerk eyed me, the lady turns to see me standing there about to turn red...and keeps on with the chatter!!  It wasn't mindless chatter either, oh no.  It was highly personal and she was just going on and on.  Finally the clerks tells her to wait a moment (as she fidgets for something in her bag) and moves to help me.  Now, I'm going to preface this by stating that it is plainly printed on the store front window three times "NOTARY"...only to have the clerk to tell me "we don't do that anymore."  It was all I could do to keep it together.  The first thought that popped into my head: Well, why don't you take all those stickers off your store front, hmmmm? The next thoughts were not very nice at all as I stomped out in search of another postal type location.  Wouldn't you know it? Chatty Kathy decides she is actually finished and saunters out behind me to a running SUV.  I got into my car, whipped on my seat belt, turned the ignition key, threw it in reverse and all but screeched out of the parking lot.  Not letting Chatty Kathy's ride pull out in front of me.  I wasn't waiting for her any longer!

My next stop was the Postal Annex, where they thankfully, had a notary.  So my project was notarized, now to Kinko's/FedEx for copies.  No hitches there (blessedly).  Off to the courthouse.

Have you ever been to a court house?  It's not a fun place to be (unless you're getting married, and even then that could be questionable).  I arrive at the local court house, located in downtown Vantucky, find a parking spot and drop a quarter into the meter.  That buys me 30 minutes.  Plenty of time.  I forgot about the TSA-esque security...AND the fact that I was wearing jeans that require a belt because they are now too large.  Into the door I go and begin with the security crap:  documents on the x-ray belt, keys in the purse, Blackberry in the purse, purse on the x-ray belt, off with the coat and then...off with the belt to go into the x-ray machine.  Yes, my cheapo belt sets of the damned metal detectors.  No sooner than the belt comes off...I start to lose my jeans. #$%@!!!  I KNEW this would happen.  Flash back to a largely embarrassing moment at PDX Int'l airport when my pants actually fell off while standing in the scanner.  !@#$%!!!  This is not good.  I was able to hold onto my jeans while walking through the detector, snatch my belt and get it back on me in record time.  I grabbed the rest of my crap and headed downstairs.

I asked you previously if you've ever been to a courthouse.  It's not a fun place nor is it a happy place, but there are certainly many types of people there.  I'm sure I didn't see them all, but I heard plenty.  The mother who came in regarding a warrant for her 15 year old son who stole a car and went joy riding.  While drunk.  Or the Hispanic family trying to talk to the clerk who spoke Russian and English with a heavy Russian accent.  Or the attorneys snickering and chatting amongst themselves in their really nice suits.  I dropped off my project and walked out.  I didn't want to be there longer than I had to.  Just outside the courthouse there were a multitude of people: some homeless, a small family that looked like they were on hard times, and a woman who was crying loudly.  I tried not to stare, so I glanced sideways while I walked across the street to my car.  Once across the street (and out of her field of vision) I watched her more closely.  She was distraught and hysterical as she was talking to someone in a van.  I thought: now what is her story?  What would cause such a public emotional outburst like that?  What caused her to reach her limit?  Then I flashed back to Chatty Kathy at the postal place...and as I thought about her I noted that she was nervous, very nervous.  Talking about how the package had to get there as the person was going into surgery, then recovery for 3 days and then moving to another care facility.  Chatty wasn't going to be able to contact her for 3 months. Very sad.  Having arrived at my car, I looked back at the courthouse and saw that the woman had made it to the steps and sat down.  All of her belongings were strewn about her and she was weeping inconsolably.  And no one even blinked an eye.  I turned to my parking meter and dropped an extra quarter in it, hoping to brighten a strangers day just a little...and left.

I reminded myself of the following quote (that is incorporated in a dear friend's email signature):  "Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."  As the title states: Everyone has a story.



So please, if you see or hear me starting with the snark about the general population...feel free to tell me to simmer down.  Because everyone has a story.  Sometime soon...it could be me or it could be you.