Time is Perspective.

Angelica steps in line. “Well this begins my journey,” she loudly announces as she overlooks the entrance of the amusement park ride. The wait time is 120 minutes.

For measly three minutes, she patiently stands still; however, it’s starting to eat away at her, as she becomes antsy. She checks her watch. “Ah man, it’s only been a few minutes; feels like I’ve been here fore-ever! Maybe it’s a good time to take up a new hobby. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with myself for two hours.” She sighs.

She slips her phone out of her back pocket, unlocks it, and searches through her pages upon pages of apps. She decides on a game after serious contemplation. Bingo. An echo of "B7" pounds through the dark tunnel brimming with railings and chains and bored people. Everyone looks at her. Thus, she turns the volume down and resume playing for a solid 10 minutes. Then, suddenly, she erupts into utter happiness and jumps for joy, hollering, “I got BINGO! I got a BINGO! Woohoo!”

She overhears a man in the back yell, “Shut up, lady!”

A little offended, she slides her phone back. “OK, fine, I see. I gotcha.” She proceeds to stand in place for a moment but then her stiff back starts to loosen and unwind, and she kneels onto the concrete floor and sits criss-cross applesauce. After, she begins meditating with her eyes shut, trying to attain utter relaxation. “Mmm.” As the line moves up a peg or two, she stays in place continuing to reach enlightenment. Another person in the back insists she move up or they are going to take her place. Interrupted, she obliges. She gets up and walks a pace forward. “You should try mindfulness to calm yourself the eff down.”

After several minutes of standing, she feels her stomach growl. “Man, I’m hungry.” She riffles through her tote bag styled purse. Digging for a snack, she pulls out a white styrofoam tray with saucy ribs tuckered inside. “A little cold but still delicious!” As she gets her hands all sticky and stained, BBQ getting stuck under her nails, she chows down one rib at a time. People begin looking at her disgusted. “You people are never happy. You said I was making too much noise, then it was that I wasn’t moving fast enough. What is it now? Are you all vegans or something?” she continues to babble, “Which makes me think of a time when I went vegan … I actually didn’t eat any meat for a few months, until I realized that pepperoni on pizza is actually not vegan! Whodda’ thunk?! All this time I thought it was funny shaped tofu!” She finishes up and spills her bones everywhere, but since the line is starting to move so abrupt, she abandons them altogether. “Sorry about my ribs!” she turns back, waves, and calls out.

Later, she decides it would be a good idea to stretch. “Time to burn some calories, and she does some yoga poses, bumping into the person’s backpack in front of her. With sauce all along her lips, she asks the young man if he so happens to have a tissue.

He laughs and takes a picture of her with her face all gloppy and her hair tangled and her shirt wrinkled. She is the definition of a hot mess. “This is so going on social media to go viral.”

As she is slightly embarrassed, she rips out a massive burp! Then she starts obnoxiously laughing like a crazy person. “Seriously, does anyone have a napkin, or some floss?!”

No answer so she lies low, until she has a burst of energy from the sweet sauce. Sugar rush! She then runs in place like a marathon runner. “Getting’ mah steps in!”

While doing so, she begins talking. “OK, guys, there’s this guy I really like. He’s cute, and I think he likes me, but sometimes I’m not so sure because when I call him, it always goes to voicemail and he never responds back. So, is he just busy, or should I take this personal?”

A teen girl a couple people in front, screams, “It’s no wonder, girl, you are fiasco. For real.”

“So you don’t think he likes me?”

“No, girl, you are an actual mess. Like, it makes me actually worried for you, and I don’t even know you!”

“Fair enough. I don’t need to be insulted.”

“Whatever.”

Brushing it off, she goes back to her own. “Maybe I should start fresh?” she questions to herself, so she dumps all of the contents in her bag and begins sorting it all out. “Ooo, a French fry!--wrinkly and squishy--ew, ha!" Gum wrappers with gum wrappers; stretched out pony tails with slightly more-less stretched out pony tails; crumpled recipients with crumpled recipients.

15 minutes after, she lays out everything that was in the purse, and the line moves again, forcing her to hastily toss all the contents back in with no rhyme or reason. Her bag returns back to an essence of chaos. She pouts. Then a light bulb idea goes off. “Maybe I should write a song. She gets out a pen and paper and starts singing. She sings, “Bam, bam, I’m waiting, I’m waiting, I’m waiting … on you. I’m waiting; to wait; to you.” She laughs. “Ah man, that’s some lyrical genius if I’ve ever seen it!” She proceeds to make her own instrumentals by tapping and banging and drumming on the walls, stomping her feet, snapping her fingers, and making doo-dah-doo noises.

An hour later, she is the next person in line and is extremely excited, trying to contain herself. As the roller coaster operator says, “Welcome to the Spine Slasher everyone!” She blurts out, confused, “Wait, what?! I thought this was the Teddy Bear Express!”

“No ma’am, that’s the other ride next to this one.”

She steps out of line. “Oh, well, darn! I guess I’ll get in that line instead.”

A man shrieks with fury in his tone, “You’re trying to tell us that you tortured us for two hours straight with your annoying, compulsive behavior for no reason because all this time we’ve been in the wrong line?! Oh my Lord!” He sighs. “What is wrong with you?!”

She chuckles before approaching the exit door, “You aren't 'waiting' since, Silly, there is no such thing as time. You are simply choosing to be on standby."

Valued with a little more than a 90 second ride, Angelica suspects this man will take home some perspective.