In June, with weddings and graduations and travels, at least one day a week deserves to be called National Train Wreck Day. That’s when events collide like so many locomotives barreling north and south down a single track.
My favorite so far is June 18. That’s when I’m supposed to have a comprehensive eye exam, meet friends for a long-scheduled lunch, host a dinner party, and –oh, yes – drive my daughter to Cleveland so she can fly out to Israel for six weeks.
“You said you could take me,” she said, speaking the truth.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said, wondering how.
It’s not that other days are unavailable to schedule trips and meetings and dental work. Usually on either side of Train Wreck Day, sit days that are empty as prairies. Those wallflower days are never proposed for lunch, coffee, or wine. They are available, boring, and largely unscheduled.
Try and schedule a major event on the 17th or 19th? Impossible!
“Won’t work,” comes the response. “How about the 18th?”
Knowing this, I’ve learned to brace myself for the internal debate that comes with each invitation. If an e-mail subject line announces, “Join Us!” I half assume it will be on a Train Wreck Day.
“Oh, no,” I say, and cringe till I click and find out.
The best-case scenario would be an invitation to an overpriced teleseminar on June 18 presented by someone I loathe who is promoting illegal activity.
“Delete!” I would shout, feeling proud that I happily resisted by applying my simple three-part test: (1) Does it feel right? (2) Could it get me into trouble? (3) Is it goal-oriented?
Usually, the solution is not so simple, and I turn to my friends. They offer conflicting advice – both on whether to bail out of certain events and on the appropriate etiquette if I don’t.
“You can just drop in,” says Beth. “I’ve done five graduation parties in one day. It’s tacky to tell, though. You go to each one and give it your undivided attention. For maybe half an hour.”
She’s right that it can be done. Drop-In 101 for graduation parties is this: same school, same end of town, essentially a progressive dinner.
But the 500-level course in multiple events is more difficult: overlapping times, different parts of town, and “casual” attire ranging from swimsuits for carwash supervision to flowy skirts and wedge sandals for a nice dinner.
“Maybe you should skip something,” counseled my friend Susan when we figured out the only way to attend a 500-level triple-header this month would be to change clothes twice in two different BP stations across town.
This particular scenario was complicated because it defied the three-part test. Each event passed on its own. Only in combination did they fail. So which to choose?
The jury’s out. I am still pondering. But one thing comes to mind.
Say what you will about BP. Their dressing rooms are amazing.
Copyright 2010 Pat Snyder
