Yesterday, while Cindy and I were waiting in line for the ski lift, a guy with his son whizzed past in the channel that was empty and reserved for “ski and snowboard school only.” He and his son were neither taking a class nor instructing.
“I can’t believe that guy just did that!” I said to Cindy. “We’ve all been waiting here for twenty minutes while he just skipped the line and went straight to the front. What is he thinking?” Then I saw him apparently arguing with the lift operator, who ended up letting him through. I thought, what a psychopath, he doesn’t even care about us. He only cares about himself and his kid.
Later, as Cindy and I were sitting on the lift going back up the hill, I saw him headed back down the slope, this time with another small child. I noticed a new story forming in my mind: he was taking his two kids down this beginner slope one at a time, leaving the other child with their mother.
I imagined that he had explained this to the lift operator. I noticed that I was trying to construct a story that was compelling enough for me to feel okay with him pushing in front of us. Then the whole thing just fell apart. I had no way of knowing the truth of his situation, and I wasn’t interested in either judging or justifying his actions anymore. Cindy and I were having fun and it was none of my business what he…
