In Line
By: Chris Riffle
Why is everyone in this place wearing blue? I think to myself. I am the only customer not wearing blue in this entire restaurant. To make it worse I am standing directly in the middle of this seemingly endless line and I am wearing an outfit consisting almost completely of red. My shoes are black, luckily, but as I look down at the ground I see that everyone else in line has white shoes. Completely white shoes. Like how in the world could this even have happened? Was there some sort of memo this goddamned burrito place sent out telling everyone to wear blue? Did someone die and all of these people are paying their respects? This couldn’t be a coincidence, right?
I really, truly wish I hadn’t forgotten my phone in my apartment. I grabbed my wallet and my keys and completely forgot that my phone had fallen on the ground when I stood up from the couch that pretty much has my body’s imprint on it by now. I mean don’t get me wrong it is a great couch and it deserves to be lain on, but even the best of couches need a little time apart from their owners. My couch is a bluish color. Perhaps the couch is punishing me for wearing red and so sent these people in blue to surround me. Asshole couch. I just want food.
As I stand in line I wonder what I am going to get when I finally get up to the front. I don’t think I can decide now because I am pretty certain that once I get up there I will be about 85 years old and my taste preferences will have changed.
Hello young man, I would say to the server, I would like the softest food you have, for you see, I have no teeth. A toothless smile would ensue.
Seriously, the line hasn’t moved for like 10 minutes. It’s probably due to those people smart enough to order online and skip this line of blue entirely. They come through the door all high and mighty, walk straight up to the counter and smile egregiously.
Attack I yell at these intruders at the top of my lungs. The Smurfs around me pull their pitchforks and torches from their pockets. We must destroy them!
No that’s impossible, these people’s pockets can’t be that big. Besides it’s really my fault for not ordering online. I mean they make it so easy these days and I spend pretty much every waking second on some sort of internet connected device, it would make plenty of sense to order my food online too.
Suddenly the line shifts in front of me. I take a triumphant step forward, one step closer to achieving the ultimate goal. Still, I am unsure what I am going to get when I get up there. I could get a burrito, sure, but those are always gone so quickly. Plus burritos always remind me of my ex-girlfriend. She was the burrito queen. Seriously I am almost completely certain she had a hidden throne made of literal burritos. What’s for breakfast babe? Breakfast burritos. What’s for lunch honey? A burrito. Dinner? Steak and potatoes… inside a soft tortilla.
Okay honestly she didn’t like burritos that much I just miss her and pretty much anything makes me think of her and I always think she is the queen of that thing. Like a few years ago, when I arrived at the back of this line and was not yet surrounded by people who were completely blue, I saw this girl wearing one of those beanie hats. Immediately I was like wow ex-girlfriend would really enjoy that hat and that may have made sense if I had ever seen her wear one of those kinds of hats. Actually I had never seen her wear any kind of hat. Jesus this kid in front of me is pissing me off. He keeps talking to his friend about how white their shoes are and I’m pretty sure they have been whispering about my black shoes the entire time I have been here.
I remember the time that my I got to choose the shoes that my dad would wear in his casket. I was only 7, way too young to be able to make such a big decision, but it seemed like something important. I remember sitting sadly in front of a line of shoes. There were all kinds of shoes of all kinds of colors. I glanced over at the black tennis shoes he would wear anytime we played outside. They were dirty and beat up and said more about my dad than any pair of dress shoes ever could. They looked goofy with the suit he was wearing in the casket but what does it really matter when you’re six feet under?
This girl behind me is kind of cute. That’s my way of saying that she is someone I could easily die for right now because she is so beautiful. I mean no, I have never met her, nor do I believe I will ever speak to her, but I love her. I love her so much. One day I am going to marry this girl and we will have like 5 children and each one of them will be named after a food that goes inside of burritos. Here we have little Chicken, she’s 2. This here is Hot Salsa, he is 4. On my shoulders resides Fajita, he just turned 8 yesterday. Barbacoa is over in the corner playing, she’s 10. Black Bean, who is 14, couldn’t be here unfortunately; she is seeing a therapist.
I guess I was staring at my future wife because she gave me this weird look that told me that she was never, in fact, going to be my future wife. I almost asked her if she would ever consider naming her child Black Bean, but decided against it. The line shifts slightly forward again.
The thing I hate about lines is that if you wait for even a second to move forward when the line moves you will get judged hard. Its like, guys, we are all going for the same goal here. I understand you want to get to the food counter faster but me moving forward quickly isn’t going to change anything. We are still going to be stuck here until our teeth fall out. I know my couch is back at my apartment laughing at me. It’s his fault that I’m stuck in the godforsaken line.
I feel a hand tap my shoulder. I turn to see my future wife. She leans in and kisses me. Or wait no, that’s not what’s happening. Her mouth is forming words. “Hey dude, the line moved.” I guess in all of my thinking about lines moving forward I forgot to move forward myself.
“Do. Hel-. Barbacoa. Uh. Hot. Ok,” I reply.
My black shoes seem to be weighing me down immensely, making it extremely difficult to move forward. Somehow I manage to step into the void with only a minimal amount of sweat and an enormous amount of anxiety. Man am I glad that’s over. I usually have no problem talking to girls, something my recently-made-ex girlfriend knew all too well, but something is odd about today. I think about talking to her more but decide against it. What would I have to gain from such a conversation? I really wish I had my phone.
I have one of those iPhone things. I think I may be the only person on this planet with one though. Actually I may be the only person on the planet with a phone in general. I mean no one texts me anymore so I figure it’s just because no one has anything to text me with. My ex used to text me when we were together but I think she probably got rid of her phone when she dumped me so she could fit in with everyone else. She is probably at home right now sitting on her couch wearing her blue dress that I loved so much. Or maybe she burned that dress when she got rid of her phone. I haven’t seen her wear it in a while. I mean I haven’t even seen her in a little while, but I haven’t seen that dress either.
Chicken, I think, chicken is definitely what I am going to get. So I have that settled, sure, but that’s the easy part. There are so many possible combinations of ingredients that my mind begins to swirl just thinking about it. I still have the good part of a century to think about it so I’m just going to forget about it for a while. I think I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket and reach down to check it when I remember that I have no phone. I was literally just thinking about that, how did it slip my mind? Plus even if I did have my phone there is no way it would vibrate. I mean maybe for some guy in Pakistan who decided to favorite my tweet about going to get a burrito, but certainly not for a text. Okay so sure I have plenty of friends but they are all away today, busy with their own lives.
I glance around at all of the blue figures around me and think about the time I went to the aquarium with my dad. It was my first time going and I was completely fascinated about the fact that they could keep all of these fish in these tanks full of water inside a building that looked just like any other building. There were all these colorful fish surrounded by this blue water and I remember suddenly feeling sad for them. These fish need to be free but they are trapped in these aquariums one kabillion times smaller than the ocean. Thank god they don’t sell fish here because I don’t think I would be able to eat anything from this place if they did.
The line shifts forward again and I carefully time my step perfectly with the two conniving guys in front of me so as to minimize the possibility of getting shoulder tapped by future bride back behind me. My ex girlfriend would probably tell you that I am a lazy, boring, deadbeat with nothing to show for my 25 years of existence. She certainly told me that. But I mean come on, I have been standing in this line for forever and moving forward when coaxed. How is that lazy? As for deadbeat? Look at me taking control of my life, deciding to leave my gorgeous, mean couch and coming to this restaurant. Seriously if my couch isn’t just sitting in my apartment drinking some Scotch and smoking a cigar I will be so bewildered. I know for a fact that dude is just living the life while I’m stuck in this line between waves of blue. Luckily I am no longer smack dab in the middle of the line but everyone who has entered the back of the line has also been clad in blue. The only other people in this place not in blue are the workers who are forced to wear greasy black clothes. I wonder if their shoes are also black. I think they probably are and that makes me happy. I smile a little bit but the guys in front of me see so I immediately un-smile.
I hear bride-to-be talking on her phone behind me and I look back and see she has an iPhone too. See? This thing was just meant to be. The two of us and our iPhones and our burrito-themed children. I think we will just wrap them up in tin foil for Halloween each year and send them off to be little burritos and it will be hilarious every single year and will never get old. The neighbors would give them their candy with a little chuckle and a nod. We would live in a suburban neighborhood, of course, where all of our mailboxes match and where I can go outside in the morning to get the paper and wave happily at our neighbors.
I move forward again feeling like I may actually get to the front of the line at some point. Maybe I will get a burrito bowl with a side of chips. That way I can sit on my couch and watch some TV and slowly savor each bite of my meal. I could even invite friend-who-is-a-girl over and we could have a few drinks and snuggle up for a movie. Unfortunately she just got a boyfriend named Boyfriend and she is probably over at his place watching the same movie we would have watched, maybe even on my couch. I could see my couch moving itself over to Boyfriend’s house. It would gladly do that just to spite me. I am beginning to miss my couch a lot.
Another online orderer, I scream, quick, get out your pickaxes and your landmines, we are at war folks.
The line is shifting again and I am forced to shift with it. Black beans, for sure. I can’t eat my burrito bowl without black beans, that’s just impossible. My dad used to have a small garden out back and one year he was growing his own beans. They weren’t black beans, unfortunately. They were green beans and they were delicious. Well his weren’t delicious because they died when he died, but the store-bought ones were pretty good. Sometimes I went out to that garden and tried to plant my own vegetables but they never turned out quite like dad’s did. He treated his vegetables with just the right about of love and care. He did the same with Mom and I. But obviously he can’t now.
Brown rice is one thing I am sure of, it just has a better taste. So now I am about halfway through my future order but still have half-way to go. I am still not convinced that I will be at the front anytime soon though so I just decide to forget about it for a minute. Christmas would be awesome with future-burrito-themed-family. Each year we would stuff the kid’s stockings with their favorite kind of burritos. If they wanted a bowl, we could find a way to stuff that in as well. Maybe no chips though. Barbacoa would get the new Barbie doll that is all over the television. For Hot Salsa, maybe something in the action figure realm. Whatever we got them they would love. And for future wife I would get the nicest piece of jewelry I could afford and she would frown at me because we had agreed not to get each other gifts. She would frown, yes, but I would be able to see, deep in her eyes, that she was ecstatic. My present would simply be that; the present.
Palindrome, I think, palindrome. I learned that word today and was almost infuriated by it. It is the word used to define words that are spelled the same forward and backwards, like racecar. I was infuriated because I realized that palindrome spelled backwards spells emordnilap which is clearly not a word and which is clearly not the same spelled backwards. Palindrome. I hate when I get words stuck in my head. Especially stupid words like palindrome. Like to have music lyrics stuck in your head is one thing, but to have one word stuck in your head is so infuriating.
The tap on my shoulder reminds me that I forgot once again to move forward and I realize that I am only two people away from the counter. I look down to the register area and see a small line of people waiting to receive their online orders. They remind me a little of those kids in class that always answer questions right and then look smug about it. I still haven’t decided what the hell I am going to order. Sour cream is a good choice. Fattening, sure, but they water that crap down so much anyway that it really probably isn’t that bad for you. I remember the time my ex put a little bit of water in my ketchup bottle at my apartment because it was almost empty and she shook it up and it made this sloshy noise that made me want to vomit. She squirted that stuff all over the burger I had made her. I didn’t use any of it. Shoulder-tapping-future-wifey would never do such a thing. She would make a ton of money and would have hundreds of bottles of ketchup in the pantry just because she could. I could already see little Chicken dousing her burritos in ketchup when she was old enough to eat them.
I used to always douse the steak dad made me in ketchup. I could tell it always infuriated him because he spent so much time marinating the steaks so that they wouldn’t need any sort of sauce. But he loved me anyway. He never once complained and that made me happy. The couch in my apartment used to belong to my dad. He kept in in the garage, though he called it his “man cave.” I remember when he used to let me sit out there with him. He would open the garage door and we would sit on the couch and just stare outside. We would listen to the crickets chirping and watch as the sun would go down bringing with it the inevitable entrance of the moon. We would talk for hours. One time, when I was 6, he even let me have some sips of his beer. I hated it, of course, and that made him laugh, but looking back… I don’t know.
No corn salsa today. Instead I am going to get the hot salsa. Perhaps I feel this way because of the whole future family scenario, and me having a son named Hot Salsa, but oh well. It just sounds good right now, honestly. I am starting to get pretty excited to get back home to my couch. I know it doesn’t hate me and it just wants nothing but the best for me. It isn’t smoking a cigar or drinking whiskey. In all reality it is probably sitting there eagerly awaiting my return with a bottle of champagne at the ready.
Palindrome.
The guy in front of me is up next meaning I am after him. I start to panic. What am I supposed to do? Has every decision about my food been wrong? Should I get a burrito instead? Power through it and then just lay on my couch for a while? Should I go with no sour cream so as to not become fat? The hot salsa is probably a terrible idea seeing as I am prone to indigestion when I eat spicy things.
Everyone please get out your frankincense and murr and your books full of songs of praise. We must rejoice for the online orderer’s for they have delayed the movement of this line once more, this time in a good way, giving me more time to think. Everyone produces the frankincense and murr and books full of songs of praise.
“Hello sir what would you like?”
The server is staring at me with what I am sure is animosity. I’m red. I am red and all of these other people are blue. Is that really my fault? How was I supposed to know that I was supposed to wear blue? This is a goddamn burrito place not a Lions game. Jesus what do I do? I have no clue what I want. Future-mother-of-my-burrito-themed-children is growing increasingly impatient and may soon decide she does not actually want to have my children and will instead choose someone who is wearing blue with white shoes and they will name all of their children the same names that I wanted to name them.
I run.
I run out of the sea of blue.
I run to my messy apartment.
I run to my beautiful, majestic, lovely couch.
I give it a big hug and start to cry. I mean I really start to cry. That is something that I haven’t done in a long time. I didn’t cry when my dad died. I didn’t cry when my girlfriend broke up with me. I thought that made me more manly, or whatever, but I think now that crying is the maybe manliest thing in the world. I look down and see the blurry outline of my phone and I pick it up expecting no messages. Surprisingly there is one message. I look at it. It is friend-who-is-a-girl. The text says that her and Boyfriend had actually decided to call it quits before anything serious happened. She asked if she could come over and hang out.
I replied with shaky hands. I told her that she should definitely come over, that we could watch a movie or something.
Her reply came quickly. That sounds good. I will be there in 10.
I get up off my couch.
I begin to clean my messy apartment.
When I make it to a large pile of unread mail I shuffle through to see a flier from the burrito place. Wear blue for cancer research on Tuesday and get your order for 50% off.
A smile ensues.