6-30-02, 1:20PM

Probably my most guilty pleasure is seeing harried people being forced to wait for something. Ashley will remember my giddy happiness at seeing cars wait twenty minutes in the drive through at Chick-Fil-A when someone inside ordered five entire hundred-twenty-five-piece chicken nugget platters, resulting in a grave nugget shortage and the forced procurement of many new batches of such nuggets, resulting in unfathomable drive-thru waits. Even though I had to wait as well, I couldn't help feeling amused at the other customers' discomfort. I wouldn't really call it a sadistic pleasure -- far from that. Perhaps it's the recognition that they're getting enraged about something they have no control over. Getting angry won't help.

And now, again, I find myself in a similar situation. On the cab ride to my dorm, I noticed a bunch of banners advertising a Pride Parade. I found this rather cool, as I've never witnessed one. As luck would have it, the parade was to be today. Of course, this was pushed out of my mind as I settled into my dorm, but it quickly returned to my forebrain when I heard the shouts. The sounds of cheering crouds, cab horns, and revving motorcycle engines returned me to the present. I looked out my 7th story window to the intersection of 5th Avenue and 8th Street in time to see the first rang of horsemen, followed by a phalanx of motorcyclists, rainbow-banners flapping exhuberantly in their wake. However, the city failed to block off 8th Street, resulting in an unending line of cars honking furiously at the unmoving vehicles before them. Every so often, passengers would storm over to the police line, demanding to be let through. Eventually, they had to pause the parade in order to allow the disgruntled motorists passage.

It may not seem funny to you, but to someone as easily amused as I, it was absolutely hilarious. How often in Dallas would I see an enraged queue of cabs, glinting angry yellow in the sunlight, honking furiously at a cheering throng of homosexual cyclists? All to the blaring soundtrack of "It's Raining Men"? If that's not a reason to smile, I don't know what is. Fuzzy bunnies pale in comparison.