Choice or Fate?

I found myself pondering one of those "life questions" on my ride to work today. It was bizarre how it happened, and the question itself might seem a little odd to you. Stick with me for a minute and see if you end up making the same observation I did.

I got into my ride this morning, and I immediately settled into the cold leather backseat (I practically had to knock the guy down who was in line behind me and was trying to steal my coveted backseat approach). Anyway, with it being a Monday morning, I settled myself into what I assumed would be a quiet uneventful ride that would give me the benefit of quiet commuter slumber. For the most part it was. I dozed in and out of consciousness, repeatedly stirred awake by the oscillating volume levels of the local news station. I couldn't understand why this guy needed to turn his radio up so loud, and I was a little fuzzy when I would open my eyes to see what was going on.

It was in the semi-awake state of mind that I made an odd observation. The guy driving this car looked like his car.

NO, really, I'm not doing drugs. That fuzzy state was completely sleep-induced.

Let me explain. I won't tell you the exact details of this guy's car because I have to maintain a certain amount of anonymity, so forgive me if I take creative license to make my point.

The man driving was older, roughly late 50s. His hair was about 90% grey. His face was sort of boxy and showed his age relatively clearly. He seemed sturdy and reserved, and he was quietly classy. He's not the splashy type. I don't see him going out to pierce his ear, buy a Corvette, and start picking up young women half his age. He seemed more like the type that has been married for 25+ years, has kids and probably grandkids, and loves his life just the way it is. He seems like the type who would be loyal to the very end. I got the sense that he likes to live a comfortable life but nothing too extravagent. His car suited him. I just can't describe it any better than this. He LOOKED like his car. It was as if he and his car found each other.

His hair blended into the pale grey leather seats. His car was new, well-maintained, clean, but it was not flashy. It was a sturdy car that is American-made but has a slightly more luxurious appearance. It sort of resembles a very high-dollar classic luxury vehicle, but it's clearly not too expensive. The car has all the basic comforts of a higher-end vehicle, but it's not over the top. The car seemed like the kind that would run for a long time as long as it's maintained well. The body style, particularly in the front, was boxy and reserved.

I've always looked at cars from the perspective that they provide transportation. I have owned a luxury vehicle, but even that was not at the top end (or even lower middle) of the class. I try to buy based on utility first, then I move to appearance. But I look back over the years at all the cars I have owned, and I ask myself "did I look like my cars?" What a depressing thought! The first car I ever bought was right after high school. It was a white, 2 door Geo Metro (if anyone laughs at any of this, you will be cursed with high gas prices for eternity). It was compact, dependable, plain, and it had a little bubble butt. So far, things are lining up.

My next car was an "upgrade" to my 2 door Geo Metro, the 4 door. It was dark blue (what was I thinking) and still had a bubbly behind. Like me, the car was expanding and could fit a little more junk in the trunk. It was a little more colorful, but soon it's distinct color annoyed me. I was still discovering myself, but I stuck with that car for a whole lot of years. That car gave me virtually zero problems. I only had to do basic maintainence on it, and I never had any major mechanical failures. It was still running like a champ when I sold it to the nearest CarMax. I almost felt guilty selling it after being so reliable all those years, but I was trading up to a more luxurious car.

At this point, I had finished college and landed a really good job. I was "moving up" in the world, or so I thought, so I decided to reward myself with an affordable extravagent expense. It was an indulgence, but I LOVED driving that car. It was a two-door, and it purred like a panther getting its belly rubbed (especially at high speeds---or so I hear). The seats seemed to mold to my body, and the overall look of the car suited me just fine. It was a little sporty, but still with a classic overall appearance. It had a bit of a bubble butt as well (anyone noticing a trend here?), but it was a great car. At this point, I made the declaration that I will only own black cars. When they are cleaned and polished, nothing can compare. Black is classic and always holds up. It never goes out of style, leaving you with a car that you get sick of looking at everytime you get in. That car was kick-ass, and that's at least how I felt for a while.

About a year or so after I bought my little kick-ass car, I got pregnant. I instantly knew that my vehicular love-affair was going to have to end, because it doesn't make sense to have a baby in a two-door sports car. OR DOES IT? I somehow managed to manipulate me and my baby in and out of the backseat of that car for a couple of years before I finally gave up. I kept telling myself that the car was safer than most other options on the road, even if it was a two-door. But I eventually caved in and bought an SUV.

My current SUV, more of a mini-SUV--NOT A MINIVAN--, is of course black. It's sturdy, reliable, and utilitarian. There's nothing flashy about it. It has only the basic options, and it's relatively plain and does its job. It does have a big trunk to accommodate my various child-transporting needs (the trend continues). I think it fits who I am right now in my life.

So upon reflection, I really do think that our cars are a reflection of who we are. What does that say about the insane number of Toyotas and various types of SUVs on the road? I think it's entirely possible that our cars tend to match our personalities at the time we purchase them. In some rare cases, the cars match our physical appearance as well. In those cases, I believe the car-driver relationship is more one of fate and not choice.

The next time you are driving, preferably riding, take a look at the people driving the cars around you. Do you see a connection?

What do you think? Do we choose our cars or do they choose us?

Live From DC....It's Tuesday Morning!

There are times when we are all surrounded by annoying people. Commuting to and from work everyday with strangers increases the likelihood of encountering those people with great regularity. If you've gotten to know me at all, you will know that I am probably a little more easily annoyed than most. I just have a low idiot threshold, and I generally like to be left alone in the morning while my brain tries to wake up and prepare itself for the day. (This takes longer as I get older)

Where am I going with this? Right...

A New Guy showed up at the sluglot this morning, and I will be perfectly content to never see or hear from him ever again....ever (never ever).

Mr. NG is a somewhat attractive (wouldn't have noticed if he didn't bring attention to himself), well-dressed, mid-thirties-ish, and annoying as ALL HELL! No exaggerations necessary.

What can be so bad about this poor guy you ask? He is what Saturday Night Live sketches are made of! In fact, the folks at SNL probably know this guy and use him as a muse FREQUENTLY!

This man comments on everything to everyone, and he doesn't care who is or is not listening.

I was standing in line for a good 5 minutes when he sauntered up to the line. He was about 8 to 10 people behind me in line, but distance did not make the heart grow fonder. He was able to broadcast his annoyance all the way to my spot in line and beyond. I didn't notice at first because I thought he was talking to a friend. I tuned him out, as I do most people at 6AM. But his voice just kept pinging on my fragile sound barrier, and I eventually stopped trying to tune him out to see what was going on with this guy. Nobody has a need to talk that much that early in the morning.

First, I listened.

"Wow, that's the second car going to the Pentagon."
"Gee, nice Escalade."
"Could that guy pull up?"
"Wow, his car is clean."
"It's getting cold outside."
"Yesterday was nice!"
"I think the line is moving."

OK, besides being the King of Obvious-land, he was just saying this stuff out loud to nobody in particular. That notches him up on the annoying ladder by at least 10 spots (basically putting him at the top). All of these little comments happened within the space of about 5 minutes (or less).

Dying of curiosity, I had to turn my head down in his direction to see what was going on. I fully expected him to be a paste-eating IT nerd (no offense to all you IT nerds out there--yes there are IT people who AREN'T nerds, but I'm not talking to you!). He turned out to be normal looking. So I started watching the people around him. I started to notice that people were increasingly focusing their attention in directions opposite from him. It was almost like he had just announced he has mouth cooties and everyone was trying to avoid getting them.

King Obvious did not seem deterred as he continued to comment on everything.

"The bus has already made 2 complete routes."
"I'm going to get to work on time if the next ride is mine."
"The writers might be going back to work soon."
"My bag is heavy."
"I forgot my scarf."

Why are you talking to yourself sir? Do your friends find you as annoying as the strangers around you, so you end up talking to yourself a lot? Are you just oblivious to the fact that this stuff leaks out of your brain, down into your mouth, and out into public air? Have you convinced yourself that your input is so valuable that everyone must receive it?

I just don't understand how life and circumstances haven't broken you of such a nasty habit. Can you imagine being on a date with this guy?

"Wow, a salt shaker."
"Look, the waiter is coming this way."
"My pants are too tight."
"Your hair is long."
"The sky is blue."

Oh come on! I can't handle this level of annoyance this early in the morning!!!! Stop making the running commentary! If you want to be a sportscaster, go audition at NBC, in another state so I don't accidentally end up watching you. In the meantime stop talking!

Perhaps you would be good at something else that would make you move far, far, far away from DC and would prevent you from commuting with other strangers.

But I'm not that lucky am I?

Really?

OK, without giving too much away, I'm short. Not midget-like mind you! But I'm horizontally challenged in such a way that I don't require a lot of leg room in a vehicle. I do, however, require SOME leg room. Not much, just a little.

The rides were few and far between this morning, and I was about to give up on my destination and try for somewhere else. Just as I was thinking this, a driver called out for my beloved destination. I was excited because this was going to save me some unpleasant commuting options on an already cold and crappy Friday. But here's the kicker....I could BARELY get in the backseat at all!

The driver had his wife, girlfriend, mistress, whatever with him, and she decided that she was going to have a nice leisurely horizontal nap on the way to work. Since the other side of the backseat was completely blocked by a mountain of garbage, yes there were some food wrappers, cups, and various other unpleasantries, I had no choice but to sit behind this rude monster.

Let me see if I can use my rusty literary skills to paint a verbal picture of how this went down.

There I was, my short little stumps squeezing in behind this full reclined seat. Her seat was SO close that I had to literally put a leg on EITHER side of the seat. I couldn't curl up my legs any closer. I had to literally give birth to her damn seat the entire way to work. To make it worse, the seat was leather, and you know how much I hate leather seats.

On top of that, her hair stunk like she's never washed it, and it was right in my face the ENTIRE time. I was wearing a scarf around my neck, and I decided that it would make a good mask. So I covered up my nose and mouth to avoid sucking in her hair mites while I did what I could to control the contractions.

Because I wasn't squeezed in tight ENOUGH behind her apparently, she kept pushing BACK against me in the seat. For a minute, I considered lighting her hair on fire, but I figured I was too trapped to escape from the inferno that would surely be caused by the greasepit she's collecting on her head. Although, the smell of burning flesh and hair would have been an improvement. I still don't know if she was pushing back because she could feel my legs groping for space or because she really was just that rude. Either way, the only thing that got me through the ride was letting myself imagine 10 different ways to crawl over her body in case of an accident.

All I can say is if I had been stuck in THAT car behind THAT beast on Tuesday, this would have ended differently.

Since I wasn't and it didn't, I did my best to behave and exit like a lady.

When they pulled up to my spot, I opened the door and with GREAT fanfare and many grunts and groans "attempted" to remove myself from the stirrups of her seat. Being a little overly dramatic, I decided to turn myself horizontal in the seat and exit feet first laying on my back. (I did my best to not dip my head in their precious trash collection). The driver said "oh do you need some help?" Gasping for breath and holding my right knee, I simply said "no, no, I needed the exercise."

I should have spit in her hair.

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned in 7 Hours of Traffic

For those of you blessed enough to live outside of the Beltway, you officially NEVER have the right to complain about your traffic conditions EVER again. No exceptions. No appeals will be heard on this topic. DC Metro area traffic is, hands down, the worst ever in the world. I don't care what anyone says.

Sitting completely still on I-95 for nearly 7 hours (technically 6.5) gives you lots of time to reflect and explore yourself and those around you. Before I give you my little list of observations I have come up with as a result of Hell Tuesday, let me give those of you unaware of the situation some background.

On Tuesday, the day of the Potomac Primary (Chesapeake Primary depending on what channel you are watching), at approximately 3:00 pm it started to sleet in Washington DC and the outlying areas. Considering we live in an area that gets traffic reports that announce "sunshine delays," it is NO real surprise that traffic was going to be heavy. People are already stupid when they get behind the wheel of a car, and adding bad weather multiplies that ridiculously. So at 3:30 pm, I rushed out of my office to meet my ride outside (bypassing the bathroom and snack machine), and we were on the interstate by 3:40 pm. Traffic moved slowly for about 4 miles, and then it started to REALLY slow down. It wasn't until people around us started to put their cars in park and turn off the engines that we realized we were going to be sitting for a little while.

We sat unsuspectingly, oblivious to the traffic realities around us. The traffic reports that repeat every 10 minutes on the "8s",and were completely and totally useless. People started to get out of their cars and walk around in the sleet after about an hour. It became clear to me and my fellow sluggers at the 2 hour mark that we were screwed. We all suspected that there was an idiot convention ahead of us that was causing all the emergency vehicles to go racing by us.

Apparently, the braintrust at VDOT decided to SHUT DOWN I-95 South and block the entire southbound commute out of Washington DC because it was getting icy. Yes, SHUT DOWN.

So, I sat trapped in the car for almost 7 hours trying to get home to vote in the presidential primary. In case you didn't figure it out, I didn't make it. Nobody made it. So for those of you OUTSIDE of the Potomac Primary region, don't believe the election results. The employed, thoughtful voters who wanted to vote for their candidate were prevented from doing so by a well-crafted, well-timed conspiracy between God and VDOT.

Without making you wait any longer, here are some slugging survival tips that I have devised as a result of my hell ride.

10. Always eat a snack just before leaving work. If you aren't hungry, at least make sure you have mints or gum in your purse or pocket. Slightly chewy lint starts to look good after about 4 hours.

9. Charge your cell phones and Blackberries while you are at work. It is guaranteed that on the day you have to sit in traffic and make a million phone calls your cell phone will start to die.

8. Bring a change of clothes. Again, guaranteed that you will be stuck in hell wearing control top pantyhose.

7. Grab a bottle of water to go. Even if you aren't thirsty, it might come in handy for number 6.

6. Always, always make a trip to the bathroom before leaving work. Even if you "just went," give it a try. Every trickle counts when you are sitting in traffic for 7 hours. In case you were in a hurry to meet your ride, consider a water bottle. :)

5. Don't accept a ride from someone unless you know you can sit trapped in a car with them for more than the typical hour-hour and a half.

4. Make sure you have at least one friend in the world who will IM with you for several hours checking the primary results and sending you jokes to break up the monotony.

3. Always work on less sleep than you need. It will be the ONE day that you actually got enough sleep to sustain you that you will get stuck in a car for that long. On most days, I am begging for the chance to sleep. I could have had an entire night's sleep on Tuesday before I ever got home.

2. Bring something with you that could double as a pillow.

1. Learn some buttcheek exercises. Sitting on your butt for that long without moving will lead to numb-butt syndrome which could lead to a very unpleasant olfactory experience for those around you.

In all seriousness, the number 1 thing I learned that is THE most important is that you absolutely MUST have someone who does not live or work in DC that would be willing to pick up your child from school when you can't. If it weren't for my very good friend, God only knows what would have happened to my child that night! I wasn't reunited with my child until 10:30 pm!

The Perfect Storm

It was bound to happen, especially with my luck these days. One person who embodies nearly every irritating characteristic known to man offers me a ride home. It was inevitable and unpleasant.

I started the day thinking I would be writing a long complaint about the car engine parts I shared a seat with in the morning. I was ready to vent about the smell of grease and oil and redneck all over my clothes this morning. And then it happened...

Mr. Tsunami picked me up to take me home, and it didn't start off well. First, he was late. And I don't mean a few minutes. He was 20 minutes late with no phone call. As if my freaking day wasn't long enough, I wanted to add 20 minutes to it standing in the rain with Jeffrey Dahmer in the middle of DC. (Yeah, I'm pretty sure the guy stalking me was related to Dahmer....long story...but scary)

I guess this guy thinks that because he has a "luxury" vehicle he gets a pass on manners and good slugging etiquette. I disagree.

He picked me up late, and he suggested that I get in the front seat. I HATE the front seat. I especially hate the front seat when the third and final passenger is this guy's best friend to whom he talked the whole way home. If you know you are picking up your best dude, do you throw him in the back seat? NO!

Speaking of seats, they were leather and COLD. Apparently Hurricane Harry doesn't believe in heat, so I sat there FREEZING...literally shivering...the entire way home.

I was tired and wanted desperately to sleep as I had several hours of home overtime to complete yet. These two bozos decided to talk about absolutely NOTHING relevant to anyone. I had the pod on and their incessant yapping was still coming through. To make it worse, Teddy Tornado has the WORST BREATH EVER. Imagine the worst garbage smell if you've ever experienced (think rotting diapers in a garbage heat in late summer in Miami). Now imagine that smell bouncing off the windows everytime this guy opened his mouth to talk. Yep, there was no escape. I tried to tuck my head into the little corner of the window where the seatbelt is, but the aerodynamics of luxury vehicles basically makes it impossible to hide from the ricocheting air draft from his hell-hole of a mouth.

It doesn't matter anyway. I could NEVER sleep wondering if those high-dollar airbags were going to come flying out at my face any second. Earthquake Erwin was doing the "I'm going to drive really fast and test out my brakes at the last second" option, and I was trying really hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I ate my tongue when he almost sent us flying UNDER an 18-wheeler.

The funny thing is he was bragging to his friend, with whom he appears to spend a lot of time and drives with frequently, about his 2002 BMW. Wow. Seriously? You've had this thing 100 years and you are still bragging about it? Come on. It's time to upgrade to a new outdated replacement for your penis that stopped working 20 years ago.

To top off this beautiful ride, Sal the Cyclone took me to an entirely different location which would have required a phone call on my behalf to get back to my car. He neglected to inform me of this, and I made that known. Cooler heads prevailed and he agreed to get me to my car (one piece was still optional to him).

As we approached the lot, I said "so this is a 2002 huh?" in my best Marilyn Monroe, I'm terribly interested in you kind of voice. He smiled proudly and let out a mouth-cloud so toxic that could not only reverse Global Warming but send us into another ice age. I said "yeah, I had a 2003, but I got rid of it because I wanted something newer. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice night!"

Next time, I won't go looking for the fish when a storm is coming.