Like the banner ad for the exact same pair of headphones you were browsing 17 minutes ago, the question seems innocent enough. But then like the very same banner ad, it gets you thinking. Until you spiral deeper and deeper into your own mind and nothing seems real anymore.
That or you say ‘Nothing much. What about you?’
Weekend plans are every politician’s campaign speech. Every self-help writer’s book. Every religious guru’s sermon. Every diet fad, every first day at a new job. They are every self-made promise to wake up earlier, go to the gym, eat healthier and spend more time with the family. They are every stag night, every road trip, every outing to paint the town red. They are the American Midwest from the comfort and safety of a plane 30,000 feet above. They are the ambitions of a child. They are every liberal’s dream of a society free from discrimination and inequality. Weekend plans carry the same comfort as a lounge chair or the words ‘If we just could …’.
But then as the digital clock on our cellphones switches from 14:59 to 15:00 on a Sunday afternoon, we realize what our weekend plans have become. They have transformed into reality. From a rosy, pink-faced youth with dreams in his eyes and a jump in his step, they have become a stooped, jaded middle-aged executive at a paper company whose only care in the world is where his next Scotch is coming from. They have become a greedy, power-hungry politician. They have become stubborn rolls of fat around our bellies that just refuse to leave. They have become full bladders of urine with no rest-stop for the next 30 miles. They have become a night of babysitting drunk friends as they wail about their exes. They have become the nosebleed seats at a concert, the menu items of Taco Bell and Instagram Stories. They become boredom and dread. They become an existential crisis, a midlife crisis and a crisis of faith.
So, the next time someone asks you ‘Any plans for the weekend?’, feel free to reply with something like ‘I’m going to make pickled rat livers and sell them at the farmers’ market’ or ‘I’m going to run for President of Slovenia’ or ‘I’m going to take a leaf-blower and give my friend a manicure’. They have as much a chance of happening as your real weekend plans anyway.
