Roofie Me Please

I'm so thankful I didn't wear a skirt today, but I really wish I would have worn my sports bra.

Dude driver rolled up in his jacked up Chevy truck, and all I could do is giggle to myself.  I walked up to the back door (yay me for winning the backseat lottery this morning) and the step, THE STEP, was at my waist.  I tossed my crap in the back, grabbed the floor, and climbed my short ass all up in that thang.  It couldn't have been pretty to watch.  If I would've been wearing a skirt, I would've had to hike that thing up to my waist to pull that off.  To make this trip even more exciting, this very intimidating looking dude, who looks like he eats babies and puppies for breakfast, was listening to dance music at club volume.  Really?  I was expecting country or heavy metal.  I was not expecting to have to listen to songs about shots, shots, shots, shots and something about booty shaking in this guy's truck.  I can't tolerate that crap unless I have a drink in my hand and at least the possibility of a good roofie to help me forget.  But it was fortuitous because I was bouncing the whole damn way to work.

Apparently, this guy--and many others like him--thinks that lifting a pickup truck 500' in the air is a super awesome idea.  I'm sure it comes in handy when you're off-roading down 95.  It would only be useful if he was going to actually drive OVER traffic, but I didn't see any evidence that he was willing to do so.  One thing about lifted trucks is that those giant ass tires feel every pebble on the road and bounce the truck all over the damn place.  Only the soccer ball in the floorboard was bouncing more than my ta-tas.  I think at one point we hit an actual bump in the road and my ass lifted off the seat and my girls bounced in 2 different directions.  I'll probably have to go to a doctor to get my spine realigned and buy a special orthopedic bra to get my lady lumps pointing back in the right direction.  He also had a persistent rattle coming from somewhere in the backseat, which is like nails on a chalkboard to me--especially at 5:30 in the morning.  I'm surprised every screw in the truck hasn't been bounced out yet, but OMG, how can you not hear that and NEED to fix it right away.  I go mental if I hear a rock in my tire. 

No chance in hell of an actual nap this morning.  All I could think was that I just want to fade out of consciousness to the sound of Kanye's untalented voice and wake up at work wondering why my body hurts. 

Whore in Church

I'm a good person.  I am.  I might have a warped sense of humor, a bit of a potty mouth, and a general desire to enjoy life, but all in all, I'm a good person.  I don't cheat, lie, steal, neglect my child or work, and I don't intentionally harm others (although I imagine it in my head often).  I might have a list of things to confess at some point, but none of it makes me truly evil.  This morning's ride made me feel like a bad person.

I got into this woman's car this morning and instantly felt out of place and judged.  She was a middle-aged woman with a cross around her neck and at least 5 other crosses strategically placed around her car.  I'm not sure if she was trying to protect herself from Vampire Sluggers, but at that moment, I was grateful I never fulfilled my childhood fantasy of a blood-thirsty immortality.  The crosses didn't really bother me so much as the judgmental look on her face when I climbed in the front seat (yes I got screwed on the seat selection again).  I guess she didn't like my leopard print dress that I'm wearing today.  Maybe that's too "racy" for her puritan taste.  Her judgmental look then transitioned to her changing the radio station from generic news radio to some sort of gospel/evangelism station.  I felt like this was intentional.

I was too uncomfortable to sleep, for fear that she might try to brand me with a cross on the side of my face, so I just stared blankly out the window keeping her firmly in my peripheral vision. The gospel song that was playing ended, and some guy started talking about God and being a good person and how evil the world is, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she kept glancing at me.  Seriously?  Who died and made you the judge of me?  This felt personal, but I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt----since I'm a good person and all.  Maybe it was the short, balding guy in the backseat who looks like he should be on a sex offender registry that she didn't like....

Another gospel song came on, which pretty much sounded just like the first one, and she started singing along quietly right until the line of "save yourself from sin" was repeated.  That line she really BELTED out.  Hmmmmm, perhaps she's trying to subtly tell me something?  I'd had enough of this crap.  I've heard enough stories of her type trying to save "fallen women" from their evil ways to know that I just had to embrace her perception of me and roll with it.  Then I started to think--I'll give you something to judge lady.....

I considered all kinds of options.  I thought maybe I could surf some porn on my phone for her to see.  I thought maybe I could make a fake phone call to a pimp to arrange for tonight's John.  I thought maybe I could dig through my purse and exclaim "damn!  I left my meth at home on the kitchen counter!"  None of it felt right.  You know why?  Because I'm a good person.

So I stared straight ahead, like any good whore in church would, and let her searing judgmental, God-fearing stares burn the side of my face until I got to work.

I got out of the car, letting my dress ride up a little too high, and thanked her for the ride.  Peace be with you bitch.

Like a Virgin

With the new HOT lanes that are tolled 24/7, more drivers have been forced to either pay BIG money to commute alone or to pick up slugs.  This, of course, benefits us sluggers, and we aren't complaining.  The days of standing in line for 20-40 minutes waiting for a ride appear to be gone for the most part.  Some days I get out of my car and jump directly into someone else's.  While my overall commute has not entirely improved, it has gotten better on the whole.   HOWEVER there is one major drawback:  VIRGINS.

Slug virgins are an unpredictable bunch.  Much like the first time you have sexual relations, it can be a really good or really bad experience.  If you are lucky, you get the driver who is only slightly awkward and only needs to fumble around for a minute before reaching a steady, comfortable pace.  He knows enough that he only asks a few questions and needs a little reassurance that he's in the right place, and off he goes.  I equate this slug virgin to the guy who watched a lot of porn and just needed some hands-on experience.  If you are unlucky, as I usually am, you get the unforgettable guy who violates all etiquette and clumsily gets you to the end feeling like you never want to do it again.  He's also the guy who finishes and practically high-fives himself like he's just accomplished something that deserves a trophy.  This is the guy you are pretty sure will never really improve with experience, and every time you see him after that, you act like you don't know him and walk in a different direction.   He's the tragic virgin that just removed an option from the table.  One less ride you will take. 

Because I've been doing this forever, I can pretty much get through any awkward circumstance with some coping mechanisms.  My number one technique is the slug nap, or at the very least, pretending to be asleep to avoid him trying to talk to me.  If you are unlucky enough to get in the front seat with a tragic virgin, do the bare minimum to ensure you will at least get to your appointed destination, and then you sleep.  You wake up when it's over and you don't have the memories to ruin the next time.

Let It Goat

When you fall into a deep sleep, you lose a certain level of control.  It's just a fact of life.  When slugging, most people sleep, because why not.  Over the years, I've experienced my fellow sluggers snoring LOUDLY, farting, mumbling in their sleep, twitching uncontrollably, and many other things.  As a slugging veteran, this kind of thing usually just makes me snicker.  When I take my daily slug naps, I'm typically only partially asleep and am mostly aware of what's going on in the car and have complete control of myself.  However, I stayed up a little too late and woke up feeling like a zombie, so my slug nap this morning was more like a temporary coma.  I basically remember getting into the car and putting on my seat belt.  After that, mmmmmmmmm, nothing.

I don't know if I was dreaming or if I was so close to death that my body just gave up, but somewhere close to me reaching my destination, I moaned--that's the closest word I can come up with.  This was not a cute little moan that would've made my fellow sluggers smirk or chuckle.  This moan sounded more like a cross between a moan, a scream for help, and me trying to speak in tongues.  I opened my eyes to realize that my head was flopped over, I was hanging by the seat belt, and yes, there was drool.  After that unfortunate farting incident when I was in school, I learned that when you wake yourself up by making loud noises, you just freeze and don't make any sudden movements.  This allows you to avoid the immediate fallout of the reactions by plausibly still being asleep. 

I had my sunglasses on, so I was able to open my eyes enough to see that I had scared the living shit out of the driver and the front seat passenger.  I think the driver was getting ready to pull over and call 911 to have the dead body removed from his back seat.  Once it was obvious to everyone that I was, indeed, alive and well, they calmed back down.  Luckily, it happened so close to my drop off that I didn't have to endure this awkwardness for long.  We pulled up, and I got out as if nothing ever happened, politely thanking the driver and wishing both a beautiful day.  We are all professionals here.  No need to bring it up fellas.  Just let it go.

While I'm sure what they heard was dramatic, in my head, as far as I can recollect, it sounded like this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxIkqbRR59s

Spies Like Us

I hate nosy people, especially strangers.  I don't trust them.  There are certain "social norms" of conversation with strangers that you just don't violate, and someone who does makes me suspicious, especially at 5AM.

I got a ride from an innocuous looking man in his mid-50s (I'd guess), and I had the pleasure of getting the back seat.  Dude in the front seat is clearly military and not the most comfortable with strangers asking prying questions either.

Dude driver, from now on known as PJ (Philip Jennings--male spy from The Americans), didn't even wait until we got out of the lot to start talking.  And by talking, I mean TALKING AT A REALLY LOUD VOLUME.  I can only assume so his surveillance device can pick up the voices.  He immediately stated to Front Seat Dude (FSD) that he's seen him before, but he was in the backseat last time.    He asks FSD what he does for a living.  FSD hesitates and tries to dodge the question.  PJ asks again.  FSD gives him an answer, and that was just about the worst thing he could've done.  It turned into 20 questions at that point, and FSD was stuck.  He politely gave short, but I'm assuming honest, answers, but tried to stop the interrogation.  I'm in the backseat with my eyes closed, pretending to sleep, but that didn't stop PJ from asking me what I do.  I ignored.  He asked again, only louder.  I very quietly answered "travel agent," thinking this is bland enough to have him gloss right over me.  But noooooooo.  He started asking for whom and where.  I tried to ignore again, but this guy was balls to the wall.  I decided to let my allergies take over the conversation, and I started coughing uncontrollably.  I did this long enough for him to switch his focus back on FSD.  

He then started digging into FSD's entire work history.  This was getting out of hand.  This is Spy 101.  This guy has an agenda.  It's not only annoying and inappropriate, but it's interfering with my morning Slug Nap.  The Slug Nap is sacred, and I just can't let this continue.  So I gave it back to him.  20 questions, some were repeated in different ways to see if he had his own story straight.  I started asking really probing questions about how much he makes and what benefits his company offers.  I asked him what the address was to his office, and what his work hours were.  For the most part, he started to dodge.  Hmmmm, was I getting too personal?  Was he uncomfortable with my line of questioning?  Too bad!  Maybe he will get the point. 

We start to approach our appointed drop-off location, and I noticed he was trying to come up with some sort of closing line of questioning.  He asked FSD if he ever worked with So-and-so, an old officer friend of his.  Rookie.  Luckily, FSD just said no and left it at that.  Good job buddy.

We arrived and disembarked the vehicle, exchanging "wtf" glances at each other.  He laughed and said "nice how you turned it around on him."

I just responded with "'Merica!" and I laughed and walked away.  Not today PJ.  Not today.