Up In Flames

On my way to work a few days ago I saw a homeless man trying to light his hair on fire with a Zippo.

Had I known that this was a sign for where my day was headed I might have declared him a prophet, pulled my boat ashore and left my nets to follow him. (It’s a Biblical reference, people – I’m from the Midwest – what do you want from me?!)

A few hours later, I was in FedEx, sending off envelopes. There were about nine people ahead of me and the one employee working was clearly frazzled and kept apologizing to all of us.

Finally, I was the only one left in the store and just as I was about to talk to her about the pros and cons of shipping overnight, something happened. She took one look at me and burst into tears.

SOBS.

HEAVING, WRACKING, SOBS.

I didn’t know what to do. So I dropped my envelopes and awkwardly reached across the counter to pat her shoulder.

It’s okay…this job is tough. You’re doing really well.

She looked at me and kept wailing.

I’m just SO OVERWHELMED. There were so many people!! And I’m having a family emergency and my replacement is late!!

So, I did what any good Midwest girl would have done. I offered to buy her some Coke.

I know a guy who sells it on Sunset and Laurel Canyon.

KIDDING. Mom, that was just a joke….A JOKE!

I bought her a Coca Cola and tried to make her laugh. (I swear if I’m any more like my father I may start growing a mustache.)

Eventually she calmed down.

Soon, people started coming back into the store, she started working again, soda in hand, and I left wiping her tears off my sleeve and wondering if that really happened.

That night, I got to thinking about how sometimes my life feels like a series of never ending fire fighting – yeah I know, I’m coming down a little hard on the 'fire' metaphor.

But stay with me.

Los Angeles seems to be full of people walking around pretending they are okay. Pretending they are not soaked in gasoline and just one spark away from going up in flames.

From breaking down at your job in front of a stranger.

Or giving up all together and deciding to light your own hair on fire.

I am the queen of pretending that I’m okay. Pretending that I’m not over-stressed, or over-tired, or overwhelmed. Even if I’m standing around the ruins of my life and a friend asks me how I am, I always respond…

Oh, I’m fine! And you?

I admire the guts it takes to admit that you are not fine. To admit you need a Coca-Cola (or in my case a Gin Dirty Martini.)

Sometimes life comes at you too hot and too quickly. You might not survive if you don’t reach out to someone.

The longer I’m here, the more I learn I can’t fight the flames alone.

There is so much peroxide in my hair I wouldn’t stand a chance.