The Pause That Never Ends

I sat in the back row of a funeral the other day and saw a woman pulling on a pint bottle of pop. I won't say I was shocked. I saved that emotion for the pallbearer in bluejeans. But I was chagrined, baffled and nonplussed. Couldn't she abstain for sixty minutes? Perhaps she has some rare Diet Coke deficiency that requires topping up every 15 minutes. And what makes me so superior? There might have been friends of the deceased labeling me Funeral Crasher as they smiled and nodded.