Me and Meg

With the holiday season upon us, people’s desire to beat the line, get there first, or make sure they don’t get taken advantage of, becomes paramount.   If you don’t have a Kim Kardashian size booty, you are going to feel like your personal space is being infringed upon.  People seem to forget that everyone deserves personal space.

When you are a mom, a dad, or care-giver for that matter, you know very well what an intrusion of your personal space feels like.  It happens daily; I’ve heard too many tales of using the washroom with an audience.  This type of infringement is understandable; it goes with the territory of raising little ones.  What I can not accept is when people you don’t know get in on your space.

So there I was, doing a little bit of shopping, SOLO; basking in my freedom.  Here comes a space invader of a different kind, not your two-year-old hanging off your leg while you make dinner.  You have most likely come into contact with this sub-species.  You will be standing in a line, patiently waiting for your turn at the cash desk when someone creeps up really tight behind you.  On occasion they will ask, "Are you in line?"  This seems obvious to a regular person, but to a space invader you couldn't possibly be in line because you are not grazing the person's bum in front of you. 

Personal space is a mystery to these people.  You move an inch in line, they move two.  With my space invader right up my a** and feeling his breath on the back of my neck, I did the only thing I know to do in this scenario, I put my hands on my hips with my elbows out and let my space invader bump into them a few times.  With luck your space invader will be somewhat aware and will recognize the presence of your arm in their gut means they are a little too close.  My new technique is going to be to turn around and ask them to brush their teeth, or perhaps I'll introduce myself and suggest they take me on a date before we round second base.  Wait, I got another one, turn to them and say: “As you can see I bought these jeans to fit me, I don't know why you are trying to squeeze into them”......Wait another one: the lines not going to move any faster with you riding my a**.

My point is if you get to escape your house alone, teaching an adult the dos and don’ts of queuing and what constitutes breathing room is not something you want to spend time doing.  Truth is, I’m a total pansy and would rather avoid confrontation.  So I let my space invader grind up on my elbow and wait for them to tune in.