The people watching at a well attended event is pretty much as interesting as the event itself.

I mean, sometimes.

Somehow, despite living in this area for nine years now I think, we have never made it to the “big city” Christmas parade.  (We are faithful attendees of our small town version.)  This year the timing was right, we had hot cocoa and marshmallows to put into a thermos, we had no plans; so parade watching it was.

I was reminded, however, that I am not a gigantic fan of gigantic crowds.

We arrived early, enjoyed our refreshments on the sidewalk and waited for the parade.  People arrived later, pushed and shoved and inserted their very tall selves right in front of my averaged height younger children.  One middle aged couple (Is that what I am? Middle aged?  Whatever.  Middle age doesn’t care about its middle aged-ness.)  were obviously at some level of disagreement about where to stand, how to get there and where the best viewing spot was located.

I wasn’t eavesdropping, we were nearly shoulder to shoulder and they weren’t whispering.

She wanted to step down in front of a few people, he felt like that was rude.  She was attempting to stand where she wasn’t in the way, but closer to the street.  He refused to join her and insisted that he was staying back and she could basically do as she pleased but he wouldn’t be moving.  His manner, his voice and his body language let her, and me too, clearly see that he felt that not only was she wrong, she was pretty stupid for proceeding along the path she had chosen.

It was actually painful to witness.

He leaned against a street railing.  She stood a few feet ahead.

And for the entire length of the evening – it was a rather full parade line up – they spent the time apart.  Her giving steady, nearly every two seconds, backwards glances to him.  She was all smiles and pointing out the intricacies of the floats.  “Look – it’s a Great Dane.” Glance back. “Oh – my.  Smurfs, honey.”  Glance.  Glance.  “I think this is the Shriner’s float.”  Smiles.  Glance.  “Oh, a tandem bike.”  Smile.  Glance.  Glance.  Smile.

His response was steadfast.  It never changed.  Not for float number one.  Not for float number one hundred and one.  Not for a single in between float.

Irritation.  Really, I’d call it straight up disgust.  That’s what his face registered with her every glance, smile and hopeful attempt at engaging.

And that lady.  All.  Parade.  Long.  Glance, glance, glance.  Smile, smile, smile.  Attempt to engage.  Attempt to connect.  Attempt. Attempt.  Attempt.

I have no idea who these people are.  I don’t know their struggles.

I could have just witnessed one rotten night in a really lovely life.  That’s totally possible.

Or she could be the worst human ever, deserving of every snide sneer his curled up lip could muster all night long.  She could have killed his dog minutes before they arrived, told him she didn’t love him, asked him to quit his job, scratched his mustang.  I don’t know.

I wanted so desperately to catch his eye.  To say, in the kindest voice, “Hey, buddy.  Whatever is going on, I’m going to bet there’ll come a day you’re going to regret the way you are treating this human right now.”

To tap that lady’s arm and look into her eyes and say, “Hey.  Relax.  Dude is not worth the neck cramps and the emotional fatigue you are putting yourself through right now.  You can’t win here tonight.  Just, you know, enjoy your parade because this guy is not playing along.”

I almost opened the conversation several times.  But – I don’t know – I’ll call it propriety, but maybe it was just fear that stopped my words from leaving my mouth.

So I guess I am stuck with this – telling you.  Because that doesn’t hurt at all.  There’s no fear just sitting on my sofa and sharing my thoughts with the internet.

Life is short, people.

Life is unpredictable.

Life is too fleeting to be a jerk to someone you are watching a parade with.

Life is too short to try to convince someone you are watching a parade with that they are having fun.

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