The lot of us roamed the state park, back and forth, like zombies searching aimlessly. We’d keep going until Liz – the activities coordinator – blew the whistle, and then we’d scramble back to the bus.
Lenny and Chip, the OCD sufferers, zigzagged the grounds in convoluted patterns, understood by them alone. Reminded me of the football patterns I ran with my mates behind Foley field, about 40 years earlier. The difference being that we never crossed into each other’s lanes in those days. But, Lenny and Chip crashed into each other at one point, almost coming to fists over it, before arriving at a compromise with my assistance.
“Avoidance is the key,” Lenny told me after calming down.
“Yep, stay in your own lanes, and all will be good,” I said. And I gave him a thumbs up. He smiled, gave me a pat on the back and continued his zigzag patterns. I felt validated from the pat.