A little out of line

Lunch break. 1 hour.
1) Consume lunch 2)Sneak over to the Fulton-Magnolia Post Office to mail a CD in a bubble envelope to Sis Bernie in Singapore 3)Get my web designing skills back to my desk at PDS.

Ample time... except upon entering the front door of the post office I was given the impression that Cindy Margolis was giving free blow jobs at the head of the line. Before I could back out of the line, a guy in his mid-thirties, unshaven, black tie, white shirt, took the spot behind me. All of a sudden, my situation didn't look as bleak. As a matter of fact, a sense of pride started swelling in my chest, knowing now that I was the proud owner of the spot in front of the the guy behind.

The loser behind me (we'll call him Mr. X) let loose a burp and his breath reeked of alcohol. I was like, "Hey, dude, it's only 2 in the afternoon." I gave this guy the benefit of a doubt. May be he just had his wisdom teeth pulled out and may be his religion did not permit anaesthesia.

Well Mr. X continued to burp and it was getting intolerable. I had to burst the bubbles that padded the inside of Bernie's envelope for air. What ever the case, I refused to back out of the line because I knew his burping was probably a ploy to force me to give up my VIP spot. There were times I really felt like holding a match in front of his mouth and see if a flame would snake into his belly causing it to blow up, a bit like the plane explosion at the conclusion of Die Hard 2.

Time ticked away. I started looking at my watch and was hoping I would get some crowd participation. I mean, if everyone started looking at their watch repeatedly and back up their teetering patience with a flustered sigh, I'm pretty sure the PO employees would have gotten jarred out of their tedium and up their pace. All of me wanted to rouse the troops by raging a battlecry, followed by a litany of fiery phrases that would give these cowards their knees back... all this as I gallop up and down the line, fists clenched, arms stretched in front of me as if I were riding an invisible horse.