Some mornings just don't go well. It almost seems like once the suck ball starts rolling you juts can't stop it. By the time I got to work this morning, I was rolling full speed in a life-size suck ball.
As I entered the commuter lot this morning, some clunky-Mustang-driving redneck cut me off and nearly made me wreck my car. My heart was drumming pretty steadily by the time I reached the few available parking spaces left in the lot (thanks inconsiderate van-pools. Us sluggers just L-O-V-E you). I excitedly pulled into the one lovely space left on the row I was in when Mr. Teeter Totter decided to open his car door. My cat-like reflexes of course saved me from ripping his door off, but I sat there a quarter into the space with a line of angry cars jockeying for the holy grail of parking spaces while he peeled his enormous, roly-poly body out of his teeny-tiny little clown car. It seemed to take 5 minutes to complete this process before I could pull into the space. Cars were revving their engines behind me thinking that I must be smoking crack instead of parking, and I got some pretty ugly looks as people were finally clear to go around me. Not my fault guys!
I finally got safely parked, and I loaded all of my work gear onto my shoulders with great exertion of effort. Who knew you needed 3 enormous shoulder bags to sit in an office all day? It was peak traffic time in the lot, so I had to stand by my car for at least 2 minutes waiting to cross the lane to get to the line. I patiently waited for everyone to go by without having the courtesy of letting me cross, and I finally got a break. As I started to cross the lane, a car coming from the lane pointing straight at me decides to come flying through the lane and not stop at the end of it. I was in the middle of the perpendicular lane when he bolted out and almost hit me. I froze and braced myself for what would have been a really painful meet-and-greet with his front bumper. I must have glowed with fear because he slammed on his brakes and stopped just inches from my legs. Then HE waved me across the road. Wow, how generous of you.
He turned the corner, and I walked on my way to the line with shaky legs and heart palpitations (I'm going to need a cardiologist soon). I approached the line and saw at least 20 people in line, and I could tell there was a car sitting at the front of the line waiting. Clearly none of those 20 people were going where that car was headed, so they all sat there staring at each other. I asked the folks ahead of me as I got to the line where the car was going. They turned and said MY location. Wooohooo! Rock on! I love walking up to the line and getting directly into a car, especially when the line is long.
The problem is that I looked around the people toward the car and realized it was the guy who almost just turned me into a grease spot on the road. Wow, this lucky and it's not even St. Patrick's Day?
I hosted a little internal debate between my ego and id, and I finally decided that the guy didn't ACTUALLY kill me, so maybe there's a chance I'll make it work. His car was smelly and uncomfortable, and he slammed on his brakes A LOT. But in the end, he dropped me off at work in good time and alive, so I guess it wasn't all bad. :) (This is me trying to see the "bright" side of things....how am I doing?)
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Passive Aggressive Commuting
Most days, people leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. Common courtesy is a thing of the past. "Old Timers" lovingly refer to the past as the "good ol' days." I wouldn't exactly say that I'm an old timer, but I would say that I remember when courtesy was the norm and not the exception. Our society has created an individualist monster that feeds on selfishness and has no respect for the "fellow man." Most people act based on a "what's in it for me" mentality, and they don't care who they hurt, offend, or completely screw in the meantime. Take this "me" mentality and put it up against my naturally aggressive, somewhat demanding personality, and you get a pretty heated exchange between commuters.
The line of riders was relatively short this morning, and the drivers were stacking up. When that happens, someone has to have the nerve to step out of the line and walk to the cars to ask where they are going. This helps keep things moving instead of cars just sitting still in the back of the line while people are standing in the freezing cold waiting for them. So, today, I sacrificed my line status to move back to the line of cars to call out destinations. People started scurrying back toward me to get into cars, and one of the cars was going to my destination. I could have easily just jumped into that car without regard for whether or not someone was in line in front of me. But, I live by the golden rule, and I refused to rob one of my fellow riders out of a ride. So I called out that destination to the front of the line, but nobody was moving. I called out once again just in case, and there was still no response. While my back was turned, two guys I didn't know heard me and were starting to get into that car.
Oh hell no you don't.
I turned to see this happening and instantly switched on the "bitch." I said "HEY! NO NO NO, I am in line for that car!" The one guy turned to his friend and laughed. My response: "What the hell are you laughing at? Get out of that car!" The driver was clearly caught in the middle, and he couldn't accommodate a third rider, so he just sat there waiting for us to sort this all out. The jerk's friend tells him he needs to step aside and let me have the ride, and his response was "why should I?" Unbelievable! No courtesy.
The nice guy steps out of the car and says "you can take my place." Really admirable of the guy since it was my ride to begin with, but his friend wasn't giving it up. So he was in the front, and I was in the back. Mr. No-Manners decides to act like a 3 year old in a temper tantrum, and he starts doing little annoying passive aggressive things to drive me crazy. He pushes the seat back as far as he could without completely crushing my legs, so I buried my knees as far into the back of his seat as I could get them. It required a great deal of effort, but I kept constant and undoubtedly uncomfortable pressure on his back the whole time. He kept cracking his window to "let fresh air in." So I would lean forward and cough and sneeze on his head. At one point I'm pretty sure I produced phlegm in a fake cough that landed on his ear. :) Oh well.
The whole ride was a tit for tat exchange of immature behavior, but I was not going to let him get away with any of it. It ruined my nap, but I was comforted by a sense of accomplishment that I had also prevented him from enjoying his ride.
We both got out at the same place, but he walked in a different direction. He tried one last time to get in my way, so I nailed him with my lunch bag in his leg. Ooops, who knew fruit and yogurt could be so heavy. I just smiled and flipped him a good old fashioned Irish 2 as we went our separate ways.
All I can do is hope that nobody else ever lets him get away with that again! As for his friend, next time I see him, he's got a guaranteed ride.
The line of riders was relatively short this morning, and the drivers were stacking up. When that happens, someone has to have the nerve to step out of the line and walk to the cars to ask where they are going. This helps keep things moving instead of cars just sitting still in the back of the line while people are standing in the freezing cold waiting for them. So, today, I sacrificed my line status to move back to the line of cars to call out destinations. People started scurrying back toward me to get into cars, and one of the cars was going to my destination. I could have easily just jumped into that car without regard for whether or not someone was in line in front of me. But, I live by the golden rule, and I refused to rob one of my fellow riders out of a ride. So I called out that destination to the front of the line, but nobody was moving. I called out once again just in case, and there was still no response. While my back was turned, two guys I didn't know heard me and were starting to get into that car.
Oh hell no you don't.
I turned to see this happening and instantly switched on the "bitch." I said "HEY! NO NO NO, I am in line for that car!" The one guy turned to his friend and laughed. My response: "What the hell are you laughing at? Get out of that car!" The driver was clearly caught in the middle, and he couldn't accommodate a third rider, so he just sat there waiting for us to sort this all out. The jerk's friend tells him he needs to step aside and let me have the ride, and his response was "why should I?" Unbelievable! No courtesy.
The nice guy steps out of the car and says "you can take my place." Really admirable of the guy since it was my ride to begin with, but his friend wasn't giving it up. So he was in the front, and I was in the back. Mr. No-Manners decides to act like a 3 year old in a temper tantrum, and he starts doing little annoying passive aggressive things to drive me crazy. He pushes the seat back as far as he could without completely crushing my legs, so I buried my knees as far into the back of his seat as I could get them. It required a great deal of effort, but I kept constant and undoubtedly uncomfortable pressure on his back the whole time. He kept cracking his window to "let fresh air in." So I would lean forward and cough and sneeze on his head. At one point I'm pretty sure I produced phlegm in a fake cough that landed on his ear. :) Oh well.
The whole ride was a tit for tat exchange of immature behavior, but I was not going to let him get away with any of it. It ruined my nap, but I was comforted by a sense of accomplishment that I had also prevented him from enjoying his ride.
We both got out at the same place, but he walked in a different direction. He tried one last time to get in my way, so I nailed him with my lunch bag in his leg. Ooops, who knew fruit and yogurt could be so heavy. I just smiled and flipped him a good old fashioned Irish 2 as we went our separate ways.
All I can do is hope that nobody else ever lets him get away with that again! As for his friend, next time I see him, he's got a guaranteed ride.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
A Notable Return
Wow, yes, it has been 2 months since my last update! I imagine most people have lost interest at this point, but this is still a great outlet for me when things get a little wacky in the slug world. Yesterday was one of those times.
I’ve been getting lazy lately because I’ve established a predictable routine of riding with the same people nearly every day. Yesterday, that routine was shattered when work got in the way and my driver couldn’t leave work on time. So, in true flexible slugging tradition, I slipped on my comfortable shoes and hoofed it over to the slug-hub at the Pentagon. I stepped into line behind two men and watched anxiously as cars drove through the lane. When you slug from the Pentagon, you have much less predictable circumstances, and the drivers are from all over the place. You don’t really come to know the characters that you will ride with, so it’s a crap-shoot. Anyway, I stood in line and watched this nice, brand new, really sweet Mercedes pull up with a really attractive guy driving, but as my luck dictates, he took the two men in front of me and didn’t offer to take a third person. I waited only about two more minutes for the next car, and appearances were definitely deceiving!
The driver was a 30-something black woman in a nice, clean, bright red sedan. I figured that it would be an uneventful ride during which I could get a few quick minutes of rest. HA! Instead, I got in and before we got to the ramp of the HOV, she lifts her leg and farts toward me. She rips one out, and then looks at me to see if I noticed. I was too shocked to actually react, so I just smiled and looked out the window. After the interior air was sufficiently blanketed in fart gas, she made a comment about being sleepy and needing to open the windows. My first instinct was to roll my window all the way down, but I decided to be a little more subtle. We hit the open road with a few cracked windows and my wool coat covered in leftover Mexican lunch gas, and she started to suck on a 20oz bottle of coke. She wasn’t just drinking it, she was sucking on it. Each suck was followed by a dramatic lip smacking and open-mouthed sigh of satisfaction. She was doing this about 10 or 12 times in a row before putting the bottle back into the holder. Meanwhile, she continued to fill the car up with noxious butt fumes and started to drift in and out of her lane. She was driving like a drunk driver, only she was drunk on Coke and red beans and rice. I was frozen in my seat by panic and a fear of deep breaths, and she decided to step it up a level by picking up her cell phone to make a call! I thought the stress was going to push me into an anxiety attack that would require us all to pull over and get out.
She got on her phone and did a lot of “mmhmm, yeah girrrrrrl, I know you right” and “mmm, you ain’t got to tell him a damn thing.” All the while, she was swerving the car in emphasis depending on the direction her “free” hand was waving on the steering wheel. She blabbered on for about 5 miles, and my heart was now approaching a full-stop. Finally, she tells her friend on the phone “girl, I be so tired I can’t hold my eyes open. I hope I make it home.”
S E R I O U S L Y?????????????
I turn to the guy in the backseat to see if he is paying attention to all this, but he has his earphones in and his nose buried in his scarf! Smart bastard!
She hung up her phone, sucked on some more Coke, and started to pick her teeth with her freshly designed finger nails. I am assuming she had to clear out the remainder of lunch that wasn’t being cycled through her colon. She picked, sucked, swerved, and farted her way all the way down the HOV while I panicked, gagged, and prayed. After several near-misses and major horn blows from neighboring drivers who didn’t appreciate her loose lane standards, she moved over to the right lane where her drifts were primarily focused on the wake-up strips on the outside of the white line. Apparently, she’s a heavy sleeper because she rode on the “wake-up” strip for about a half a mile at one point and didn’t bother to correct.
When I arrived at the lot, I went to take off my seat belt and realized that I had death-gripped the belt and dug my fingernails into my own flesh. Normally I have a low tolerance for pain, but the panic did a manual override on pain and I didn’t notice. The backseat guy hopped out blissfully unaware of our near-death experiences, or at least unfazed by them. I detached my fingernails from the palm of my hand and fumbled with the seat belt before launching myself out of her car. When she drove off very slowly down the middle of the road, I had to sit on the curb and regain my composure. I had so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I almost couldn’t sit still. I was so very happy to get behind the wheel of my car, and I was keeping a very close eye out for her around town from now on.
I decided today was a good day to drive to work.
I’ve been getting lazy lately because I’ve established a predictable routine of riding with the same people nearly every day. Yesterday, that routine was shattered when work got in the way and my driver couldn’t leave work on time. So, in true flexible slugging tradition, I slipped on my comfortable shoes and hoofed it over to the slug-hub at the Pentagon. I stepped into line behind two men and watched anxiously as cars drove through the lane. When you slug from the Pentagon, you have much less predictable circumstances, and the drivers are from all over the place. You don’t really come to know the characters that you will ride with, so it’s a crap-shoot. Anyway, I stood in line and watched this nice, brand new, really sweet Mercedes pull up with a really attractive guy driving, but as my luck dictates, he took the two men in front of me and didn’t offer to take a third person. I waited only about two more minutes for the next car, and appearances were definitely deceiving!
The driver was a 30-something black woman in a nice, clean, bright red sedan. I figured that it would be an uneventful ride during which I could get a few quick minutes of rest. HA! Instead, I got in and before we got to the ramp of the HOV, she lifts her leg and farts toward me. She rips one out, and then looks at me to see if I noticed. I was too shocked to actually react, so I just smiled and looked out the window. After the interior air was sufficiently blanketed in fart gas, she made a comment about being sleepy and needing to open the windows. My first instinct was to roll my window all the way down, but I decided to be a little more subtle. We hit the open road with a few cracked windows and my wool coat covered in leftover Mexican lunch gas, and she started to suck on a 20oz bottle of coke. She wasn’t just drinking it, she was sucking on it. Each suck was followed by a dramatic lip smacking and open-mouthed sigh of satisfaction. She was doing this about 10 or 12 times in a row before putting the bottle back into the holder. Meanwhile, she continued to fill the car up with noxious butt fumes and started to drift in and out of her lane. She was driving like a drunk driver, only she was drunk on Coke and red beans and rice. I was frozen in my seat by panic and a fear of deep breaths, and she decided to step it up a level by picking up her cell phone to make a call! I thought the stress was going to push me into an anxiety attack that would require us all to pull over and get out.
She got on her phone and did a lot of “mmhmm, yeah girrrrrrl, I know you right” and “mmm, you ain’t got to tell him a damn thing.” All the while, she was swerving the car in emphasis depending on the direction her “free” hand was waving on the steering wheel. She blabbered on for about 5 miles, and my heart was now approaching a full-stop. Finally, she tells her friend on the phone “girl, I be so tired I can’t hold my eyes open. I hope I make it home.”
S E R I O U S L Y?????????????
I turn to the guy in the backseat to see if he is paying attention to all this, but he has his earphones in and his nose buried in his scarf! Smart bastard!
She hung up her phone, sucked on some more Coke, and started to pick her teeth with her freshly designed finger nails. I am assuming she had to clear out the remainder of lunch that wasn’t being cycled through her colon. She picked, sucked, swerved, and farted her way all the way down the HOV while I panicked, gagged, and prayed. After several near-misses and major horn blows from neighboring drivers who didn’t appreciate her loose lane standards, she moved over to the right lane where her drifts were primarily focused on the wake-up strips on the outside of the white line. Apparently, she’s a heavy sleeper because she rode on the “wake-up” strip for about a half a mile at one point and didn’t bother to correct.
When I arrived at the lot, I went to take off my seat belt and realized that I had death-gripped the belt and dug my fingernails into my own flesh. Normally I have a low tolerance for pain, but the panic did a manual override on pain and I didn’t notice. The backseat guy hopped out blissfully unaware of our near-death experiences, or at least unfazed by them. I detached my fingernails from the palm of my hand and fumbled with the seat belt before launching myself out of her car. When she drove off very slowly down the middle of the road, I had to sit on the curb and regain my composure. I had so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I almost couldn’t sit still. I was so very happy to get behind the wheel of my car, and I was keeping a very close eye out for her around town from now on.
I decided today was a good day to drive to work.
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