There may have been a time I enjoyed standing in lines. If there was, it had to be in elementary school where it was an adventure. I enjoyed lines then because I could mess around with the other kids, giggle and cut-up. That did not last long and I am certain I got into trouble. I’ve spent a lifetime being in trouble, and in line is probably where it started. Get me out of that line. My aversion to line standing deepened to its now barely controlled hatred while I was in the Marine Corps. There, you stand in line for everything. There is not a function you do, except being shot at, that does not involve standing behind someone else who wants to do the same thing you do, but you are certain, not as urgently.  I stood in line for chow, showers, (the shower will be a cold one) haircuts, shots, movies, bowling, even to get into bars, but the worst is standing in line to use the head, as the bathroom facilities are called  in the Marine Corps. That is the epitome of line standing. The irony of the standing comes from the fact that I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t have to go. What am I supposed to do, anticipate needing to go and stand in line early? Truth be told, I’ve done that. There is no amount of threatening, or shouting that will speed this line along. The guy in front of you, and those in the actual facility aren’t there because they have nothing better to do. They all came with a need, and that need is on hold.  The ones I hated to see in front of me were the ones carrying newspapers, magazines, or heaven forbid, books. Such a sight would bring many threats including flushing the reader along with his book. When you finally got to a place of ease, if you had even a modicum of empathy, you could not relax, feeling for the poor guy waiting behind you. It just takes all the fun out of finishing that chapter. That was ages ago, but the effects still linger. The lines have gotten no shorter, and I often avoid them, by not going. To the chagrin of the Admiral and Princesses, if I pull up and the line is too long, by that I mean more than five people in it, we are out of there. We will move on to another restaurant, or movie theater, or I’ll say, “Let’s go rent one and save the money.” Let’s get out of that line. When you have an aversion to lines, fate seems to place you behind the person who has to fill out their bank transaction when they get to the counter. Weren’t they just standing in a line for 10 minutes with nothing to do? Did they leave the house not knowing they were going to the bank, ended up there by accident and think, “Maybe I’ll do a transaction now?” Get out of the line! In the grocery store, I can pick the line with only one person in front of me, and they will be the one with 20 coupons, one of which cannot be found, and want to write a check for the transaction. Get out of the line! Fast food places drive me to near murderous rage. At the burger places, I know what I want before I park in the lot to come in, but I will be behind the person who will wait until it is their turn to order to read the menu. Really? It hasn’t changed since you were 6 years old! I can recite it for you left to right, right to left, or inside out! Get out of the line! People do the same at chicken places. Chicken places serve … chicken, or you can have … chicken. Did you really go into a chicken place looking for prime rib, medium rare and are now confused as to what to order? How about chicken, or get out of the line! I don’t stand in line much. I figure whatever is up there, I’ve done without this long, and I probably don’t need it now.  If you are one of the above-described persons who are fumbling in your purse, or are pretending you have never been under the Golden Arches, should you hear muttered curses and feel a hot glare on your neck, it might be me, and I recommend you … get out of the line! David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human-interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted, and his other works viewed at www.starchasers.us, or david@starchasers.us.