If You're Not in a Rush, Get Out of My Way

What's my least favorite expression?

"What's the rush?"

Variations also irritate me--

"What are you rushing for?"
"What's the hurry?"
"Slow down, relax."

I think of this expression every time I'm five minutes late for work, and I'm driving down the (of course) one-way street that goes on for miles between where I work and my apartment.

Inevitably, there is always a little old man in a Cadillac on that road going five miles an hour because he's not in a rush.

Well, you know what? I am.

And I say, if you're not in a rush, get out of my way.

Pull over to the side of the road, and let someone who has someplace to be get where they need to go.

Yes, I rush, and no, I do not feel guilty about it.

I'm busy. I work. I have places to be.

Why should I feel guilty?

We live in an age of constant activity, where we're expected to be three places at once and get at least three to-do lists done a day.

Saying we should buck this trend isn't going to make it go away. This is the world we live in--a rushing world.

Now, some of us--the ones who say "What's the rush?"--are lucky enough to have less to do and nowhere to be, and that's terrific for them. I don't see why they can't just be happy for themselves rather than try and convert the rest of us by slowing us down in the hopes that we'll give in and savor life.

I'll savor life when I'm dead.

You know what I savor now?

I savor feeling like a productive member of society.
I savor looking back at the end of each year and saying--"Wow, look how much I accomplished."
I savor checking off each of the boxes on those three to-do lists.

That's what makes me happy.

I don't savor going to bed at night and realizing that I did nothing all day, regardless of how relaxing it might have been at the time.

I'm just not one of those people.

I remember when I was a thirteen, and my family went to Disney World. My mom let me go off on my own after I begged her to, and at the end of the day, I came back having been on all the rides.

My Mom had gone on three.

I repeat, she had gone on THREE rides after an entire DAY at Disney World.

I couldn't believe it. What was the point of going to Disney World and paying steep admission for THREE RIDES?

"Hey," she said, "It's my vacation. I'm relaxing. I'm not rushing around."

My mother is one of those people.

Look, I'm only going to be young once. I'm only going to be able to keep up a fast pace for a little while, and then yes, I will have to slow down. Until then, I'd like to get as much done as possible.

So please, if I'm driving behind you, and it's rush hour--the word is right there "RUSH hour"--then please pull over and let me pass you.

Once I'm gone, you can go back to leisurely driving to wherever you're going. You might arrive there a few minutes late, but that doesn't bother you.

Does it?