So, ZigDog and I were such a hit at the Unconventional Convention last week, we returned for another day.
When we arrived, the ducks were milling around. I believe they were on a networking break. They mallards were swimming with no purpose. The American Coots had on their everyday black suits garnished with white chest ties. They were oblivious to the others and looked as if they stayed out too late at last nights sales team celebration.
What caught our eye today was the line of pretty birds [insert proper birdie name…black with white chests…skinny legs]. I think they were waiting for the Starbucks to open. They stood in a neat line, on the sand bar about 10 feet out. They shuffled about, occasionally turning to their buddy, dressed in identical suits, to complain about the long wait. At the front of the line, a large Canadian Goose was acting as either host or barista and not keeping up with the demand. I watched her get flustered, and hold her beak underwater as she must have been reaching of another pitcher of milk.
Finally she came up for air. She paused, looked around, swam half way down the line to get a look at what she was up against during this convention. And then, suddenly, flew away, abandoning her responsibilities. Just like that. She figured out there must be a better place to be.
The line of pretty birds stood for another moment in dismay as the word was passed from front to back that “the help” had just quit. Then, just as suddenly the entire flock of pretty birds left the line. They flew in perfect formation to the next set of meetings…that was apparently to be a hard negotiation with the seagulls regarding flight paths and landing rights.
There was no anger. No animosity. Just seemed like a simple change of plans. “The Goose found another dream. I don’t get my coffee.”
Why can’t we make it that simple? I’m currently standing in line watching my own local Barista Goose. Perhaps she is considering that frothing milk with 2 shots of Vanilla may not actually be contributing to her dream. But please don’t fly away, Barista. I am not able to shake off last night’s sales team celebration as easily as the pretty birds.