A couple months ago, a friend and I had the good fortune to tour and film with Phantogram for about a week. Since the bunks on the bus were full, we were given a rental car and like groupies, followed them from city to city, filming to our hearts delight.
Since some days allowed for us to drive at a leisurely pace, we tried to stop for lunch at local spots in an attempt to soak up a bit of Texas culture. On one particular day, I noticed we were passing right through Waco, and I insisted we stop there (It just felt like there was a good joke in there somewhere. One that was probably only funny to me.)
So I Yelped good places, and an adorable-sounding spot called the Gospel Cafe popped up. No reviews, but it was right around the corner. So we cruised on by, to find the line was out the door.
“This place is legit! Lets's Go!” I exclaimed.
The fact that we were in the worst part of town only seemed to solidify the idea in my brain that it was the most authentic place around.
So while Erich parked the car, I made friends with a guy in line. Everyone was staring at me, and I quickly realized I was the minority in several ways. I was thrilled, because while living in Utah has it's perks, diversity is not one of them.
“So this place must be good!” I chirped.
“Oh ya!” he said. “The best place in town! All kinds of casseroles. Any kind of casserole you want.”
Jackpot! A Southern casserole mecca. My excitement grew when I pictured all the sampling to be had.
Erich walked up and looked a bit uncomfortable. I attempted to lighten him up with my new-found friend's information—best place in town, casserole for days, totally legit. We had a culinary victory awaiting us.
We waited in line for a bout 30 minutes, and we finally got inside. It was a cute, quaint old house, with quilted Gospel-themed tapestries adorning the walls. It was nothing fancy, but then again the best places never are. I loved it.
Finally, we were two people away from paying, and my new best friend turned to me and said,
“The best part is, it's totally free!”
My heart stopped. I looked around again. It all set in.
Bad part of town. Line out the door. Poverty-stricken people. Uplifting gospel messages.
Yep. We were in line for a soup kitchen.
It was too late to turn back. I swore several times internally but kept my cool on the outside.
“Oh, free huh? That's cool. Do they take donations?”
There was no way in hell the two white upper-middle class people in line were not going to donate. I had no cash on me so I quietly turned to Erich and asked for his. He still had no idea what was going on.
We grabbed our macaroni 'casserole', bag-lettuce salad and Little Debbie desserts and sat down. I casually mentioned the reality of the situation. Then we ate and laughed about it (at least I did—a lot) and went on our way.
So if I were to translate this to a metaphor for life, it would be this: Always know what it is you want, and what it is you need to get there.
Granted, I wanted an authentic Waco experience, and I got it. So really this was a victory in my book.
However, I feel like so often in life we 'wait in line' for the things we want, only to find out that when we reach the front of the line, it's not actually what we wanted. Which isn't a waste of time--I think we have to have those experiences to figure out what it is we do want.
Sometimes we wait in the lines people tell us are worth waiting in, or that seem popular. We buy into the hype about certain lines and the promises that lie at the front of them (aka my Waco best friend getting me all jazzed about the 'casserole extravaganza' that turned out to be Hamburger Helper).
But once we know, and we're solid in our ideas of what we want out of life, it just doesn't make sense to wait in the wrong line anymore. Dead-end-job-you-don't-care-about line? Pass. Volatile-relationship-that-makes-you-feel-insecure line? I'm good. Playing-dumb-so-others-can-feel-like-they're-in-charge line? No thanks.
So muddle through whatever 'life-lines' (see what I did there?) you need to muddle through. We all have to do that, and I'm sure I have many more I'll wait in. But eventually, I hope we all find the right lines and reach the front and think, “Yep. Worth the wait.”
