Hey you. Yes, you, Kenny Rogers. I’m looking at you.
Well, yes, of course I know that you’re not really Kenny Rogers. Still, you’ve done a great job of turning yourself into a shrine to the Gambler himself: well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard and mustache, collared shirt and pressed blue jeans, artfully sculpted grey-and-white feathers of hair so neatly parted down the center of your scalp.
Here’s the thing, Kenny: even if you were Mister Rogers himself (the singer, not he-of-the-beloved-cardigan), you shouldn’t hold up the line like you’re doing, chatting up the lovely ice cream maven behind the counter. We are, after all, standing in line at a Baskin Robbins within the concourse of an airport. In other words, those of us in line with you likely need to board flights pretty soon. Very soon. Please-let-us-order-our-ice-cream-and-get-our-ice-cream-and-eat-our-ice-cream-before-we-are-ordered-to-board-an-airplane soon.
|Pensive Kenny. Must be thinking about what flavors to include in his double scoop.|
Photo courtesy of celebritybase.info.
We haven’t got tonight, Kenny. We have a few minutes. We’re not islands in the stream, either. We’re hungry – or even hangry – passengers looking for some sweet, frozen goodness to boost our moods and our blood sugar.
Keep up this behavior, and no, we won’t always love you. We won’t even risk falling in love with you, whether or not you’re a dreamer. Darlin’, you’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, you’ve got to know when to fold ‘em, and you’ve got to know when to pay ‘em and move out of the way of the rest of us.
Oh, see?… my flight’s boarding now, and I haven’t even had the opportunity to order. I’ll remember this, Kenny. I’ll remember it through the years. Just you wait.