The Last One

Isn't it funny? That last chip, french fry, pita wedge, meatball or other delectable bite-sized treat that just sits alone in the dish on the table of a large party? It just sits there surrounded by people who every three or four seconds take a quick glance in its direction both to ensure it's still there should they be the brave soul to make the first move and to ensure that nobody else has been so rude as to be so brave as to make the first move and call the last one their own.

What mechanism in the brain is it that allows us to be so incredibly restrained that no matter how badly we want to grab that crab cake and shovel it in our mouths so quickly that nobody will even have time to object, that we sit politely as if we couldn't possibly eat another bite and even, get this, even go so far as to turn down the item when asked by another party member if we'd like to have it? Why do we do it? Inside I am thinking, "yes I want that slice of pizza, I'm starving and my last slice tasted exactly like more. If I have to sit and watch you consume that mouth-watering mozzarella, chicken and pesto slice my stomach is going to start eating itself out of anger as it seeks revenge on my stupid brain." But what comes out is, "oh no, I'm fine, really. If you'd like it, it's all yours. Go ahead." What a freaking idiot I am. And you KNOW that the only reason the other person is asking you in the first place is so that they don't seem like a jerk for taking it cause they 'covered their bases' and asked around. I say those people are double jerks. At least the ones that just make a lizard-like strike at the plate put the situation to rest and stop all the torturous speculation.

I'd also like to pose this question: What may I ask, happens to that same mechanism around Christmas time when parents are dive-bombing each other for toys or in fall when women are clawing each other in basements over bridal gowns? Yeesh. Let's let some of our actions bleed over into other parts. There shouldn't be the need to swipe army paint under your eyes when searching for a wedding gown…. On the other hand, bringing war paint to the dinner table may just be the ticket to securing the last spring roll.

Dinner anyone?

Ahoy, Matey!

I was out on the water last weekend in what I hope was the first of many stand up paddles in Toronto, but let me back things up for a minute. When you're walking down the street on any given day, do you smile and wave at the people you pass? Cause I sure don't. I pretty much just stay the path to my destination while avoiding getting shoved into the street by some idiot bicyclist cruising down the sidewalk.

I found the opposite when I was out on the water. A small sailboat to my left with seven or eight people on board all gave a wave and a verbal salutation; several even tried to engage in a conversation. And a ferry, just about at capacity, bringing customers over to the island for a day of fun, had so many waving hands I nearly mistook it for a passenger liner departing on its maiden voyage in 1912.

What is it about being on the water that turns self-involved, stranger-fearing people into good will ambassadors? I like it. I say bring on a waterworld. It may just be humanities best chance for a positive post-apocalyptic survival.