Control; it’s a kind of push and pull force. Fleeting in nature, it allows us to momentarily command attention and feel a rush of power. However, once lost, it causes us to stumble, falling headfirst into reality.
Like Pinky and the Brain, every night I secretly try to take over the world. Not because I want anything resembling world domination, in fact just last week I put on two left shoes so I don’t exactly trust myself to put this unbalanced world back together (however I do think I am as qualified as some eclipse-staring leaders). Like that crazy and poorly experimented on mouse (WHERE WAS PETA!?!?) I sit in my bed wishing I had more control over the things around me. My career, emotions, aging, and just generally, time.
I love to travel but hate the idea of going on a plane. The night before my flight I think about everything. The steps it takes to go through security, the slipping into a seatbelt (my family plays a game “are you smaller than the passenger before you?”), the safety manual laminated and untouched by others in the seat in front of you, and finally, the doors closing. Then you are stuck. You made that now irreversible decision to be on a small flying vehicle, being piloted by a human other than yourself. Control GONE.
Then there are subways. My mornings consist of traveling on the express line from Columbus circle. Often (because of train traffic or for instance, today, a sick passenger) I get stuck in the dark underground tunnel (or abyss in my mind) for a pretty solid amount of time. I like to refer to this dug up area between 59th street and 125th street as “No Man’s Land.” Today, somewhere in the 90s, the train lurched to a sudden stop. As the air turned on noisily (the solid indication it would be awhile), the conductor explained why we stopped moving. Without an exit in sight, I put on my Spotify, went to my pre-downloaded songs, and attempted to tune out the nerves that I could feel beginning to build.
Unfortunately, crazy pants M(er)gee decided to wake up. Now a normal person in this commuting scenario gets frustrated, looks at their phone or watch in irritation, and mutters something on the lines of “you have to be fing kidding me.” I, on the other hand, went into full on survivalist mode. Today I packed lunch AND grabbed a Starbucks coffee (yes on Fridays I splurge) which I happen to know is water-based. Knowing I had a decent amount of food and water with me, I assured myself that I could continue living down here for a little while at least.
CUZ WE’VE BEEN STUCK HERE IN THE DARK FOR WAY TOO LONG!
And it gets so much worse. In just 10 minutes of being stuck I continued to explore every worst case scenario. Would people look at me, hunger in their eyes when I took a bite of my apple? I should probably save this food for last as the first crunch would surely awaken chaos. Oh my goodness, would I be able to ration (this is a real concern to me as I was a little hefty back in my childhood days)!? Perhaps I could store food in my still large cheeks, squirrel-style. The last thought, before the train began to move, was a desire to be entertained. Man where are those subway dancers that come so close to kicking me unconscious every time I sit near the pole when you need them?
As the train began to move I looked up embarrassed trying to see if anyone else could figure out what apocalyptic scenarios had crossed my mind. To my relief, all of these people were minding their own business. They were just on the ride, accepting whatever stops and halts came their way.
Though I clearly have some things to work on, I’m not going to stop traveling or riding to work. I’m not going to stop time either, so I think I have to let this whole trying to take over the world thing go. Maybe it isn’t exactly the textbook definition of bravery stepping foot on a plane and letting the doors close. But to me, the sound of the exits shutting signifies letting go and getting to my next adventure. Control is temporary. The power, I found, is in knowing when to let go.
-na MER ste-