I’m Late for a Very Important Date

Hawaii has a laissez faire attitude towards punctuality; it is relaxed and flexible (not a lifestyle my Mom lives by). “Hawaii time” is essentially “no time.” For example, ocean aqua fitness is advertised to begin at 9:30am, but majority of the local, retired, no obligations women, arrive around 10:00am – I think they’re avoiding the challenging portion on the beach. 

Growing up, my family was early to everything. We arrived to DisneyWorld before the park gate even opened, we were always waiting on others when in actuality those people were on time and we would be so early to a movie that it looked like were late for the earlier show.  

In high school my drafting teacher gave me two pieces of advice:

1. That a profession involving drafting was not in my future
2. That arriving late reflects one’s character 

I am still reminded of his comments many years later (especially the drafting comment since he shattered my dreams of becoming an architect) every time I head out for a date, yoga class or work – I’m always early.  

In Talk as Though No One is Listening, I was talking to myself, but the other day I made certain everyone and their dog could hear me. 

Who needs the weather network when a window is a front row seat to the current conditions? This is my strategy to predict when I need to leave my place to arrive to work on time.

The other day my predictions were incorrect as the weather looked calm, but I could not foresee the ice-covered roads. 

Generally I drive 20 minutes to work, give or take a couple minutes, but one frosted morning it took me a whopping 90 minutes. Needles to say, I arrived late, but I was not the only one bolting into the parking lot. 

I hopped out of my vehicle and grabbed my three bags and my coffee cup. While trying to untangle the straps of my unnecessary number of bags, my thumb hit the panic button on my keys. 

The impeccable timing of the honking rhythm while I approached the front entrance was like the Major Leagues baseball players walk up songs when they step up to the plate.  

The vehicle’s alarm pierced the latecomer’s ears for at least 10 minutes (was probably only 4 seconds, but it felt like an eternity) before I located the bright red button and silenced the annoyance. 

I turned to my Director and announced, “I have arrived.”

She began to laugh and declared, “you sure know how to make an entrance.”

Unlike White Rabbit, even though I was late, I was able to say more than hello; good-bye.

Head on over to The Wreck in Recreation Facebook page to be reminded of weekly posts and see pictures from my vacation in the Aloha State.