The Chair

So I’m at this party on Friday night, and there are not a lot of places to sit. I see a few soft comfortable chairs, but they are filled by various socialites. One holds a couple that could have been anywhere between 25 and 75 years old (it’s hard to tell with artists). She’s sitting on his lap, and “secretly” grinding on him, as if the entire party was just some backdrop to their hilarious and romantic sex life. Not getting in that chair, I guess. The last thing I want to sit on is a wet spot. I look around for another chair, and bide my time.

It happens. Some pooper model gets up and makes her way to the bathroom (probably to throw up the rice cake she’d eaten the day before). I make my way to the chair and sit. It’s an OK chair; not too comfortable, but better than standing. And I sit there. And finish my beer. And I sit there. There’s nothing really happening around me. I don’t know or want to talk to anyone around this chair in which I’m sitting. I’m not having fun, and I’m out of beer, but damn it, if I leave, I’ll lose my chair, and I have to stand again. So I just sit there, bored, and scan for a familiar face to get a beer from. Which got me to thinking (yes, it happens).

A lot of people live their life in a chair. I’m not talking about working at a desk, I’m thinking more of a metaphoric chair, where we plop our metaphoric asses, and get bored. Sure my feet hurt, sure I was kinda drunk and feeling lazy, but I didn’t really need to sit down. I put importance on something trivial (getting a chair), and once I attained my goal, I didn’t want to give it up, even though holding onto my ill gotten gains was keeping me from enjoying my night to the fullest. It was a bit of comfort, but it was attained at the cost of enjoying that portion of the night. And why was I there? To sit? To be comfortable? No. To talk, listen, and drink. I left my chair (notice how I think of it as “mine”) and saw it get snagged about 7 seconds after my butt left the vinyl. And I thought, “shit. I just lost my chair.” And I got mad at my brain for tricking me again, and punished it by drinking another beer.