Hmm..

My grandpa.

"Thank you, David, so kind of you to do this for me," he said, after an hour of watching me mess around with his computer. He seemed to be unaware of everything, constantly needing help, even though the solutions were so simple. Which was strange, because he was also a very clever man. To this day he is still the smartest stupid guy I know. Grandpa.

"Welcome," I sighed, extremely tired after an annoyingly simple troubleshooting that my Grandpa made 50 times more complicated, as per usual.

I was ready for a break.

I slumped upstairs and face-planted into the bed; it seemed to be the perfect time for a nap.

Five minutes pass, and I began drifting off to sleep....

"DAVID... I NEED HELP", shouts a voice from below.

Fiddlesticks.

My grandfather is a mess. Not a mess literally (although he can be), he's just all over the place. His attire consists of chuck norris-style cowboy clothes, to cheap flea market, maggot infested, logo shirts. If there was an award for most mismatched and terrifying fashion ever, my grandpa would probably get second place. His variety is amazing. It's also really easy to tell when he's around because of the tell-tale miasma of old-people-smell cologne that follows him around like some sort of spiritual aura. I love him.

That day was a very exhausting day. It started off fairly ordinary, but honestly is anything ever ordinary? Maybe I'm just unlucky.

On that day, he decided he wanted to go to the doctor. Of course, I wanted to help him out. He knows a couple words in broken English, so letting him loose on his own would cause some misunderstandings, so, usually, I act as the personal Polish-to-English translator. The system typically works well. We stepped into his car and drove off to the doctors, with a shaky putt-putt sound emanating from the old engine.

Being in Grandpa's car is a unique experience, to say the least. There's never not something littering the back seats, usually either spilling, covering, falling, rolling, sliding, or doing any other variety of messy things. The seats are covered with a strange texture of "grit", I have no idea why or what this is, but whenever you touch something it feels grainy and coarse. All this -- plus the musty smell -- really ties together how you'll feel in the car. Uncomfortable.

And so begins the drive, in the usual slow crawl that my Grandpa finds as a perfect speed. We arrive at the doctors; and both step out and go up to the door, where you can see a handwritten letter taped onto the entrance:

The doctor's office is closed today, sorry for the inconvenience.

I tell my grandpa the news. We can't go to the doctors here.

An average person would reply normally, calmly, and understandingly. Something among the lines of "Oh, sorry, I guess we'll go to another doctor", or "Well that stinks, time to go home".

Instead, my grandpa screams at me.

"What David?! This is impossible it has to be open! I've been here before!"

Very logical.

"It's closed grandpa. Sorry."

He continues to stomp up to the door and knock.

Nothing. Of course. The office is closed.

Eventually, after many times of him knocking and making a riot upon the door, he just tells me to go to CVS with him. So we do.

We enter the familiar building, with its red sign and clean interior. I walk with him on our usual path, straight to the back if the building, where the pharmacists are there, ready to help. The very first thing my grandpa decides to do, is to complain to the innocent workers.

"WHY THE DOCTOR CLOSED?!", He yells, in his broken english, immediately making me cringe in regret of coming here. I grit my teeth and whisper to him in polish,

"Grandpa, they don't have anything to do those doctors, they are a completely different thing"

At the same time, the pharmacist pretty much repeated what I said.

"Uhh, we aren't associated with the doctors you speak of"

Gramps continues complaining, and the ladies working there try their best to tame him. It wasn't really working. Soon, after a bit of arguing and explaining, he understood. Time to go home.

BUT WAIT. THERE'S MORE. He decided he also needed to go to the DMV to get something done with his car. At this point I was done with his shenanigans, but I couldn't leave, so I accepted what I was about to get into. This was the beginning of a realization. Once we got to the DMV, it was clear to see that we would be waiting for a very long time. My grandpa did what his ignorant grandpa instincts told him to do: pick a random line and stand in it; even though the lines were labeled. We were in the wrong line. I don't remember exactly what the line differences were, but I knew we were in the wrong line. I told my grandpa this, but as usual, he shrugged it off and waited there. We waited for 40 minutes, and I was too tired to even be frustrated. After we had to switch lines, he apologized, but still was angry and said it was my fault.

We got home. More little annoying things happened, but they aren't as important. I did learn a lesson though. I know this isn't a satisfying ending to this long, drawn-out story, but I learned to be patient.

Even though this was a fairly stupid experience to get such a life-changing lesson, it really did teach me. People are always gonna mess up, people are always gonna be ignorant, people are always gonna be hard to deal with. After all, everybody's human. So, I decided that there's no use getting fed up with the wrongs of other people, the best way to go about it is to be patient, be happy that you have company, and make sure you treat them well. If you're going to waste time, you might as well waste time and enjoy it. So thank you, for wasting time with this story, and with me.