Waiting for the Limo

Every done it? Ever had to wait for the limo? To pick you up, I mean, not waiting for the limo to drop somebody else off. Anyone can do that. Find a red carpet and a crowd and you’ll see what I mean.

I had to do it once, wait for that limo. What a nightmare. So, you got time for a yarn?

I’d run out of shirts or jeans or something, and passing by a menswear store I remembered to go in and buy some.

“Fill in the form, sir?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“The form. It’s for our shopping centre competition. Premier night at the new James Bond movie.”

“Oh, yeah. OK”

That was Friday.

Wednesday and the phone rings. It’s about 4:30pm.

“Hello Mr Miller. I’m ringing to tell you that you’ve won the James Bond competition. Tickets for the opening night.”

“Oh, that’s good. When’s it for?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“The limousine will pick you up at 6:30.”

“Thanks. Thanks very much.”

Now what do we do? We’ve got two hours to get ready, much more time than we need. Dinner is included so we don’t need to prepare a meal. We have only to sit and wait. And fidget.

And so came into being the phrase, Waiting for the Limo.

It’s time that can’t be re-allocated. It just ticks away as you sit there. Your mind is on something important, or at least significant, or just plain distracting, and it won’t be turned to something useful in the interim. Your brain has gone to mush. It is as useful as a parking meter, but just a little less expensive.

And at the appointed time the limo arrives and the chronology starts up again.

A publisher emailed me today. I sent a manuscript to him a few weeks ago. A novel, a work of fiction. He’s interested. The book has passed through two levels of examination. He wants to ask me a question before sending it to level three. I answer the question, he replies with thanks. The book is now on its way to the final stage of assessment.

I am waiting for the limo.

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