I am decidedly pessimistic, and I am not ashamed of it. I see things through a tainted lens of cynicism that drives most people insane, but I regard it as my shield from inevitable disappointment. If I enter a situation assuming the other person will let me down, and they do, then I don't leave that situation feeling crushed by the betrayal of my optimism. But that's just me. There are so many out there who are optimists, or at least they hopeful to become one. Yesterday, I had a truly inspirational epiphany that will probably fade soon, but for today, I feel inspired enough to share the positives of slugging.
Yesterday, I had to break away from my normal routine and go to a different location on the other side of DC from where I normally go. This meant that I didn't know any of my fellow riders or drivers, and I had no clue where I would actually get dropped off (sometimes the location we agree on is just a "suggestion" that you hope gets you close to your actual destination.) Ironically, luck was on my side, and someone drove up calling out my new location and was actually going to the same building as me. I got in and celebrated my luck, and my luck improved even more. The driver and rider was this really nice lesbian couple who were so friendly and helpful. I explained that I normally did not go to this particular location, to which the passenger responded "yeah, we see you in line everyday, but we've never picked you up." (**I'll hesitate here for you to have the same reaction as me**) So, I smiled and explained that I'm just a one-timer, and we all began to chit-chat about various things. We talked about traffic, the election, the weather, the fall foliage, and then slugging in general. I got the low-down on how to get home, and I even got a hand-drawn map! It was just a really nice experience, and I feel like I made 2 new friends that I'll never see again. :)
I went on my way to a long day of meetings and discussions and discussions and meetings, and I left just exhausted. I was dreading the end of the day a bit because, despite my custom map, I was not confident that I'd get a ride home. Basically, the location of this "slug line" was this "the third planter on the right." Yeah, it's that specific. I hiked up the road looking for the magical planter, and I saw a line of people. I stopped and asked if they were going the same place as me, and the nice lady directed me to the correct planter at which there was a car waiting.
The next few moments were surreal for me. Things crossed my mind that normally don't. I slug everyday without even thinking about what I'm actually doing, but for a moment, it was like I was having an out of body experience. I walked up to this man's car who was sitting at the curb. I instantly felt like a hooker. I leaned down and he lowered his passenger window. I asked if he was going my way, and he said yes. Still feeling like a hooker. I almost expected him to ask "how much?". I smiled a bit at the humor of that whole exchange, and I confirmed with him once again, using different terms, that he was indeed going to my location. He said yes again, and I climbed in. At this moment, I asked myself "isn't this what we teach our children NOT to do?"
He had someone already sitting in the back, and I didn't realize it until I got in because of the tinted windows. The initial shock of that realization had me a little nervous, but I calmed down a bit when the driver's cell phone went off and he answered it to have a discussion about dinner plans with his wife and kids. Certainly he and his backseat buddy didn't intend to kill or rape me right after placing an order for General Tsao's chicken.
The pessimist in me stayed on guard for most of the ride, watching and waiting for signals of my impending doom. Fortunately, nothing appeared. It was completely and totally uninteresting. He was a good driver whose windshield needed to be cleaned. He listened to bad Top 40 music on the radio, and he kept his thoughts to himself. The person in the backseat sat typing on his blackberry, and we all arrived to the sluglot unscathed and a little bored with the whole routine of it all.
As I stepped out onto the pavement of the lot that I park in and ride from every day, I looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of cars of people just like me and I saw optimism. Every person parked in that lot rides to work with strangers, who can sometimes become friends. We put our faith in each other in a mutual relationship based on blind trust and optimism. We are optimistic that the driver picking us up will get us where we are going safely, and that optimism is met with results day after day. A process of quasi-institutionalized hitchhiking works in an area where people choose to live long distances away from the big bad city. We share a common suburban personality with big-city ambitions, and we all go to and from work everyday joined in anonymous camaraderie. When a new person reaches out a hand for help and guidance, we gladly take it and show them the way because we all started in that same place.
Some of my best "critics" of this blog often say to me that I'm too negative, that I focus on the bad things and leave out the good. My epiphany was this. This entire blog is based on optimism. I wouldn't have a blog if I were not a little optimistic. I take my experiences and find the pieces that are entertaining to me, but the underlining message is that despite whatever "negative" experiences I have, I continue to rely on strangers to get me take me back and forth to work. I stand in line everyday knowing that I will get in someone's car who has a life about which I know nothing.
With all the negativity, pessimism, and discontent in this world, I embrace my general pessimistic attitude by providing a daily account of my inherently optimistic actions.
The thing that makes Americans great and unique is that we can hope for a better future while complaining about the present. It's the one quality that has allowed us to emerge triumphantly from depressions and world and civil wars. We experience fear, disappointment, frustration, and sacrifice, but we do so because we believe in a "better time." We believe that it will all work out.
So, I will wait in line with my fellow sluggers and confidently ride in cars with strangers.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Dangers of Mouthbreathing
I get up every morning at the ungodly hour of 4:45 AM. The first thing I do as part of my routine is to turn on the television to listen to the news and traffic. It helps me wake up and predict whether or not my day is going to generally suck for reasons not under my control. I listen with half an ear to the "traffic and weather on the 8's" at least 4 times during my morning routine. You would think, after all that, and the repeated warnings of the temperature being in the f-ing 30s, I would dress appropriately. But no. Not me. I know better. I still live in the days of early autumn when all you need is a light jacket.
When I settled into the snake-like slug line this morning that had coiled itself all the way around the bus shelter, the realization that it's not going to be a mild winter struck me. I was wearing my stylish leather jacket that is only capable of containing temperatures well above freezing and a very thin shirt underneath. I stood there just a little cold at first, and then the heat reserve built up from my car quickly wore off. I was painfully aware that I chose peep-toe flats to wear to work today, and every exposed part of my body was starting to shiver.
I've been sick for the last week, and while I'm getting better, I still can't breathe through all this congestion. My nose is pretty much clogged all the time, but standing out in the cold made it even worse today. So I graciously accepted my ride resigned to the fact that I'm temporarily a mouth-breather.
The guy who picked me up was such a character that I don't even think I can do him justice by describing him. His energy was bountiful, and his enthusiasm was entirely inappropriate for the hour or the audience.
Shortly after merging onto the interstate, he startled me from my slow tumble into commuter slumber by yelling "WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT!!!??" My eyes flew open expecting to see an 18-wheeler riding tandem on a Mini Cooper, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. He followed up by saying "it was a shooting star! Right there, going across the interstate." I halfway wanted to laugh, but the other part of me, the more jaded and aggressive part of me, wanted to tell him to reserve his enthusiasm for flying body parts or mangled metal. I was not in the mood to hear about missing a shooting star.
Then the really funny part kicked in. He was listening to country music, and Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" came on (probably for the 80 billionth time on that radio station). He sat straight up with his coffee in his hand and started singing! SINGING at 6:20 AM on I95. It was like being in another dimension where people are happy and sing songs with strangers before the sun comes up. He looked around at me and the other poor bastard riding with us as if to say "aren't you going to join me for the chorus?" This particular song is reserved for very specific situations in my life, and this was not one of those situations. A very drunk Irishman serenaded me with this song (and a few Irish patriot songs), and I'll never be able to listen to it with the same perspective. So no, I didn't sing along. But it actually put a shadow of a smile on my face.
Things quieted down after Garth shut up, and we drove forward into the bowels of 7th ring of Hell (AKA Washington DC). I sat there miserably trying to close my mouth and breathe through my nose, but my body was not cooperating. I was trying to sleep, but the breathing issue prevented it from coming. Then I started to reason to myself that I didn't need to breathe through my nose. That mouth-breathing is a perfectly acceptable way to intake oxygen, and I shouldn't be hung up on it. I willed myself to sleep through the mouth-breathing, but still it wouldn't come. I finally accepted that I wasn't going to get a nap in, so I just relaxed my head and tried to focus on something else.
Mr. Happy broke my Zen moment with a "oh, oops!" Since my eyes were closed, I figured he probably cut somebody off who had a much less friendly reaction, and I didn't bother to look for confirmation. But that wasn't it. Mr. Manners was warning me about something that my body was presently incapable of detecting. Without all of my sensory faculties in line, I had no way of knowing what was happening to me. There was no olfactory detector in service to give me the heads up. And there, in my congested misery, I mouth-breathed Mr. Happy's fart.
When I settled into the snake-like slug line this morning that had coiled itself all the way around the bus shelter, the realization that it's not going to be a mild winter struck me. I was wearing my stylish leather jacket that is only capable of containing temperatures well above freezing and a very thin shirt underneath. I stood there just a little cold at first, and then the heat reserve built up from my car quickly wore off. I was painfully aware that I chose peep-toe flats to wear to work today, and every exposed part of my body was starting to shiver.
I've been sick for the last week, and while I'm getting better, I still can't breathe through all this congestion. My nose is pretty much clogged all the time, but standing out in the cold made it even worse today. So I graciously accepted my ride resigned to the fact that I'm temporarily a mouth-breather.
The guy who picked me up was such a character that I don't even think I can do him justice by describing him. His energy was bountiful, and his enthusiasm was entirely inappropriate for the hour or the audience.
Shortly after merging onto the interstate, he startled me from my slow tumble into commuter slumber by yelling "WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT!!!??" My eyes flew open expecting to see an 18-wheeler riding tandem on a Mini Cooper, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. He followed up by saying "it was a shooting star! Right there, going across the interstate." I halfway wanted to laugh, but the other part of me, the more jaded and aggressive part of me, wanted to tell him to reserve his enthusiasm for flying body parts or mangled metal. I was not in the mood to hear about missing a shooting star.
Then the really funny part kicked in. He was listening to country music, and Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" came on (probably for the 80 billionth time on that radio station). He sat straight up with his coffee in his hand and started singing! SINGING at 6:20 AM on I95. It was like being in another dimension where people are happy and sing songs with strangers before the sun comes up. He looked around at me and the other poor bastard riding with us as if to say "aren't you going to join me for the chorus?" This particular song is reserved for very specific situations in my life, and this was not one of those situations. A very drunk Irishman serenaded me with this song (and a few Irish patriot songs), and I'll never be able to listen to it with the same perspective. So no, I didn't sing along. But it actually put a shadow of a smile on my face.
Things quieted down after Garth shut up, and we drove forward into the bowels of 7th ring of Hell (AKA Washington DC). I sat there miserably trying to close my mouth and breathe through my nose, but my body was not cooperating. I was trying to sleep, but the breathing issue prevented it from coming. Then I started to reason to myself that I didn't need to breathe through my nose. That mouth-breathing is a perfectly acceptable way to intake oxygen, and I shouldn't be hung up on it. I willed myself to sleep through the mouth-breathing, but still it wouldn't come. I finally accepted that I wasn't going to get a nap in, so I just relaxed my head and tried to focus on something else.
Mr. Happy broke my Zen moment with a "oh, oops!" Since my eyes were closed, I figured he probably cut somebody off who had a much less friendly reaction, and I didn't bother to look for confirmation. But that wasn't it. Mr. Manners was warning me about something that my body was presently incapable of detecting. Without all of my sensory faculties in line, I had no way of knowing what was happening to me. There was no olfactory detector in service to give me the heads up. And there, in my congested misery, I mouth-breathed Mr. Happy's fart.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A Latin Lesson
Yes, it's been a while. I've been vacationing around the world and just generally avoiding the commuter grind, but I'm back despite my resistance. I've actually got quite a few stories under my belt from the past few weeks, but I won't go back in time just yet. Today we move forward with a bit of a Latin lesson.
In college, I nerded out and took Latin (and I enjoyed it, so joke all you wish). Anyway, for some odd reason, there was one word that stuck out in my mind because it's also the name of a car. For me, whenever I see that car, I don't see the name, I see the translation.
In Latin, the word "audire" means "to hear." To skip ahead a few lessons, the imperative of "audire" is "audi." So, whenever I see an Audi, I read "HEAR!" OK, a more accurate modern usage would be "LISTEN!" but I always thought it was funnier to say "HEAR!"
So this shiny new "HEAR!" drove up to the line with Peroxide Barbie driving. Without getting started on that, I just have to comment on the car itself. OMG, who designed that piece of garbage car? I mean REALLY! I've been in Datsun's that were more comfortable. (My first car was a Datsun B210 that had a 2X4 holding the seat upright) I was in the backseat, and I have to say, the car itself made me miserable. Whoever designed this particular car hated people riding in the backseat.
I'm short, but when I sat in the seat, the headrest was jabbing me in that part in between your shoulder blades...you know...just below your neck. JABBING me. It was sticking WAY out and jabbing me in the back. I tried to discreetly move it up so that the "headrest" is actually where my head can rest on it, but it didn't budge! It was MISERABLE. I tried slouching down into the seat, but all that did was push my head so far forward that I was practically nosing my chest. Good lord! Cruel, cruel car designers got one over on the average family of 4 in that deal!
But, that's not the point today boys and girls. Today, we must learn the true meaning of the Latin word "audi!"
It's super early this morning when I catch a ride with the Over-processed Barbie, and she was in a bit of a hurry. As I am fumbling with the headrest, I feel her dig her Payless stilettos into the gas pedal and she started to merge onto 95. BUT WAIT, there were cars there! As she violently swerved back into the merge lane and shoved my neck into the torture device in her backseat, she softly mutters to herself "whoa." I'm thinking to myself....that's a mild understatement, but it's a respectable one. A few miles up the road, I start to settle in with my head cocked to the side to avoid the piercing pain of the jabbing headrest. But comfort is not her goal this morning. Oh no. Today, she wants to test the gods of transportation to see if they favor fake blondes. She decided that she wanted an 18-wheeler's lane more than he did, and she just got in it! He, of course, lays on the horn, and her response...."whoa."
Yeah, whoa indeed.
AT this point, my head hurts from the headrest, and the pungent, putrid smell of her jasmine air freshener was breaking through my really thick head cold and choking me to death. Her erratic driving was just making me grumpy. I started to play in my head all the Latin phrases I could remember from college, and I came up with a few. I only wish I had my Latin insult phrase book with me!
I'll share some of them with you, so if you ever find yourself in a scary commuter situation, you too can die like a nerd.
"Quid fit" = what's happening?
"Totus anctus" = in a world of hurt
"Nihil declaro" = I have nothing to declare
"Observa quo vadis, cinaede!" = watch where you're going, jerk!
"Primum non nocere" = first do no harm
and finally, my all time favorite
"qui parvum cerebrum habet stultus est" It's my favorite line from my first year Latin textbook. It's always stuck with me because I actually laughed when I translated it for the first time.
It means "he who has a small brain is stupid." Totally random right?
Anyway, I'm pretty sure that after all these years, and all this Latin I had it all wrong. "Audi!" doesn't mean "HEAR!" It actually means "OH MY GOD RUN FOR YOUR LIFE THIS IS THE WORST CAR EVER!!!!"
Next time little Miss Audi drives up, I think I'm going to shout "Die dulci fruere" and wait for the next ride.
LOOK IT UP! I'm sure you looked all the others up too!
That concludes today's Latin lesson.
In college, I nerded out and took Latin (and I enjoyed it, so joke all you wish). Anyway, for some odd reason, there was one word that stuck out in my mind because it's also the name of a car. For me, whenever I see that car, I don't see the name, I see the translation.
In Latin, the word "audire" means "to hear." To skip ahead a few lessons, the imperative of "audire" is "audi." So, whenever I see an Audi, I read "HEAR!" OK, a more accurate modern usage would be "LISTEN!" but I always thought it was funnier to say "HEAR!"
So this shiny new "HEAR!" drove up to the line with Peroxide Barbie driving. Without getting started on that, I just have to comment on the car itself. OMG, who designed that piece of garbage car? I mean REALLY! I've been in Datsun's that were more comfortable. (My first car was a Datsun B210 that had a 2X4 holding the seat upright) I was in the backseat, and I have to say, the car itself made me miserable. Whoever designed this particular car hated people riding in the backseat.
I'm short, but when I sat in the seat, the headrest was jabbing me in that part in between your shoulder blades...you know...just below your neck. JABBING me. It was sticking WAY out and jabbing me in the back. I tried to discreetly move it up so that the "headrest" is actually where my head can rest on it, but it didn't budge! It was MISERABLE. I tried slouching down into the seat, but all that did was push my head so far forward that I was practically nosing my chest. Good lord! Cruel, cruel car designers got one over on the average family of 4 in that deal!
But, that's not the point today boys and girls. Today, we must learn the true meaning of the Latin word "audi!"
It's super early this morning when I catch a ride with the Over-processed Barbie, and she was in a bit of a hurry. As I am fumbling with the headrest, I feel her dig her Payless stilettos into the gas pedal and she started to merge onto 95. BUT WAIT, there were cars there! As she violently swerved back into the merge lane and shoved my neck into the torture device in her backseat, she softly mutters to herself "whoa." I'm thinking to myself....that's a mild understatement, but it's a respectable one. A few miles up the road, I start to settle in with my head cocked to the side to avoid the piercing pain of the jabbing headrest. But comfort is not her goal this morning. Oh no. Today, she wants to test the gods of transportation to see if they favor fake blondes. She decided that she wanted an 18-wheeler's lane more than he did, and she just got in it! He, of course, lays on the horn, and her response...."whoa."
Yeah, whoa indeed.
AT this point, my head hurts from the headrest, and the pungent, putrid smell of her jasmine air freshener was breaking through my really thick head cold and choking me to death. Her erratic driving was just making me grumpy. I started to play in my head all the Latin phrases I could remember from college, and I came up with a few. I only wish I had my Latin insult phrase book with me!
I'll share some of them with you, so if you ever find yourself in a scary commuter situation, you too can die like a nerd.
"Quid fit" = what's happening?
"Totus anctus" = in a world of hurt
"Nihil declaro" = I have nothing to declare
"Observa quo vadis, cinaede!" = watch where you're going, jerk!
"Primum non nocere" = first do no harm
and finally, my all time favorite
"qui parvum cerebrum habet stultus est" It's my favorite line from my first year Latin textbook. It's always stuck with me because I actually laughed when I translated it for the first time.
It means "he who has a small brain is stupid." Totally random right?
Anyway, I'm pretty sure that after all these years, and all this Latin I had it all wrong. "Audi!" doesn't mean "HEAR!" It actually means "OH MY GOD RUN FOR YOUR LIFE THIS IS THE WORST CAR EVER!!!!"
Next time little Miss Audi drives up, I think I'm going to shout "Die dulci fruere" and wait for the next ride.
LOOK IT UP! I'm sure you looked all the others up too!
That concludes today's Latin lesson.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Commuter Circus
Have you ever been in a situation that made you stop and just laugh because so many things were going wrong at once?
I was standing in line this morning, and very gradually I started to notice that everything was unraveling. I don't know if it's the influx of new sluggers or just Monday stupidity, but everyone was just insane this morning.
At first it was the drivers. There was a guy who drove up from the back holding up a big sign announcing his destination...written in crayon. He was waving it at all of us and yelling it out for those who can't read. He was acting inpatient that nobody was stepping out, but as far as I know, it's never a good idea to step out in front of a moving car. Two guys sort of crept up to the car as if they were afraid to get in, but it's that same old story of wanting to get to work at any cost. The driver was a nut, but they were in a hurry.
Then this "woman" drove up in her giant SUV, and stuck her head out, again, way towards the back of the line. She was apparently too impatient to wait until she got to the front of the line to call out her destination, as it expected of most drivers. So she starts saying "14th Street!" (actual names and locations are changed to protect the privacy and accuracy of this blog) But nobody moved and she got PISSED. So she, with a deep drill sergeant voice (obviously calling upon her previous career as a lesbian drill sergeant), called out 14TH STREET!!!! It was so loud, and so obnoxious that we all started laughing. Since her daily dose of estrogen had clearly not settled in yet, she started getting angry and commented "you people need to wake up!" To which a guy behind me said "next time you can bring us Starbucks." Then the real fun began. We all took turns making fun of her as she drove off.
Then another guy drives up and calls out a random street in DC that nobody has ever heard announced before. We all just sort of stood there looking at each other as everyone mentally googled a map of DC streets to figure out where he was going and if it was close to them. Someone in the back asked "how far down?" He said "anywhere." Wow, that instilled a lot of confidence in the line. Finally, after much hesitation, 2 people got in and appeared to be worried about the probability of actually getting to work with this guy.
Meanwhile, because the drivers were all off their rockers, the riders were acting as if they couldn't figure out which was was up. People were stepping out for the wrong destination while others were completely clueless which car to get into. Some people attempted to get into a car only to be ejected when it was discovered that they were going somewhere else. At one point, everyone was criss-crossing and bumping into each other trying to get to their rides. It was as if I had stepped out of reality and into a really bad comedy sketch. I kept waiting for a clown horn to go off, but I was disappointed.
My fun came to an abrupt stop when I looked down the line of cars to see HER. It was like all the kids in class goofing off and then the teacher walks in, making every heart in the room sink. She inched up in her Mercedes and all of my "friends" in the back taunted me that I was next up for a ride. Nobody wants to ride with her, and we all like to make the ride more painful by pointing out that it's not our turn that time. So, in true payback fashion, my buddies gave me a little parting taunt before I embarked on the journey to the center of commuter misery. Ironically, I even fought for the ride because some bimbo jumped out in front of me and the guy behind me. I quickly informed her that we had that ride, and she corrected herself back in the line. On a day like today I can't really blame her. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to, and I was in good humor after having poked fun at the crazy lesbian drill sergeant.
So I rode off to my boring old office in boring old DC and, despite my driver's clear lack of people skills, I had a bit of smirk on my face remembering the chaos and confusion that we were all starting our week off with....and then I fell asleep and snored and drooled all over myself.
HAPPY MONDAY!!!!!!!
I was standing in line this morning, and very gradually I started to notice that everything was unraveling. I don't know if it's the influx of new sluggers or just Monday stupidity, but everyone was just insane this morning.
At first it was the drivers. There was a guy who drove up from the back holding up a big sign announcing his destination...written in crayon. He was waving it at all of us and yelling it out for those who can't read. He was acting inpatient that nobody was stepping out, but as far as I know, it's never a good idea to step out in front of a moving car. Two guys sort of crept up to the car as if they were afraid to get in, but it's that same old story of wanting to get to work at any cost. The driver was a nut, but they were in a hurry.
Then this "woman" drove up in her giant SUV, and stuck her head out, again, way towards the back of the line. She was apparently too impatient to wait until she got to the front of the line to call out her destination, as it expected of most drivers. So she starts saying "14th Street!" (actual names and locations are changed to protect the privacy and accuracy of this blog) But nobody moved and she got PISSED. So she, with a deep drill sergeant voice (obviously calling upon her previous career as a lesbian drill sergeant), called out 14TH STREET!!!! It was so loud, and so obnoxious that we all started laughing. Since her daily dose of estrogen had clearly not settled in yet, she started getting angry and commented "you people need to wake up!" To which a guy behind me said "next time you can bring us Starbucks." Then the real fun began. We all took turns making fun of her as she drove off.
Then another guy drives up and calls out a random street in DC that nobody has ever heard announced before. We all just sort of stood there looking at each other as everyone mentally googled a map of DC streets to figure out where he was going and if it was close to them. Someone in the back asked "how far down?" He said "anywhere." Wow, that instilled a lot of confidence in the line. Finally, after much hesitation, 2 people got in and appeared to be worried about the probability of actually getting to work with this guy.
Meanwhile, because the drivers were all off their rockers, the riders were acting as if they couldn't figure out which was was up. People were stepping out for the wrong destination while others were completely clueless which car to get into. Some people attempted to get into a car only to be ejected when it was discovered that they were going somewhere else. At one point, everyone was criss-crossing and bumping into each other trying to get to their rides. It was as if I had stepped out of reality and into a really bad comedy sketch. I kept waiting for a clown horn to go off, but I was disappointed.
My fun came to an abrupt stop when I looked down the line of cars to see HER. It was like all the kids in class goofing off and then the teacher walks in, making every heart in the room sink. She inched up in her Mercedes and all of my "friends" in the back taunted me that I was next up for a ride. Nobody wants to ride with her, and we all like to make the ride more painful by pointing out that it's not our turn that time. So, in true payback fashion, my buddies gave me a little parting taunt before I embarked on the journey to the center of commuter misery. Ironically, I even fought for the ride because some bimbo jumped out in front of me and the guy behind me. I quickly informed her that we had that ride, and she corrected herself back in the line. On a day like today I can't really blame her. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to, and I was in good humor after having poked fun at the crazy lesbian drill sergeant.
So I rode off to my boring old office in boring old DC and, despite my driver's clear lack of people skills, I had a bit of smirk on my face remembering the chaos and confusion that we were all starting our week off with....and then I fell asleep and snored and drooled all over myself.
HAPPY MONDAY!!!!!!!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sluglot Leviathan
"during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war as is of every man against every man"--Thomas Hobbes, The Leviathan
Road rage is running rampant in the world today. People are stressed by the gas prices, and in DC we are additionally stressed by the increased volume of tourist commuters clogging up the roads during peak rush hour. The parking lots of all the commuter lots in the DC area are being filled to capacity earlier and earlier, so it is becoming a survival of the fittest, fastest, and most cunning drivers to get the few remaining spaces. It's like the mad rush at the Apple stores to get the new iPhone. You just have to do what you have to do to get what you want. I understand this.
However.
I don't accept that you can break the rules to get what you want. There is a reason we have rules, laws, and standards of acceptable behavior. If we didn't, our world would be chaos, and we would eventually die nasty, brutal deaths. But thanks to the forward-thinking wisdom and philosophy of great minds like John Locke and Thomas Hobbes and the influence they had on our Founding Fathers, we have a government with rules, laws, and standards of behavior.
One of those handy rules is that when you come to a stop sign, you stop and let the oncoming traffic that has the right of way proceed before you go. It's probably one of the most basic rules of driving that we all learn within days of entering driver's education classes.
As you can imagine, someone broke that rule this morning. But he didn't just break the rule. He broke it in such a way that I would have been justified in pressing the accelerator to the floor and making direct contact with his legs the next time I see him. But, true to my character, I didn't let him get away with it.
As if his driving violation wasn't bad enough, he copped an attitude with me. And he didn't even do that like a man. He used his cell phone as "cover" to talk smack about me. Well, Mr. Wiseass Coward didn't know who he was messing with this morning, because as he walked by telling his imaginary friend or mail-order bride about "some crazy woman who almost hit him in the parking lot" I made my position known.
For the record, if I had been in the wrong, I would not have gotten into an argument with this guy. But, as is usually case, I was right, and I made sure he knew that. I was not going to let him accuse me of not following the rules when it was HIS mistake.
So, there he was, hiding behind his wireless courage, walking directly behind me as I got out of my car. He wasn't trying to be subtle, so I wasn't going to be subtle either. I walked right up next to him, matched his pace, and said very clearly "it's called a fucking stop sign asshole." (yes, I cuss. It's a hobby) Caught off guard, but not willing to give up his pedestal he assumed was so high above mine, he stopped, held out his cell phone so he could "yell" and tried to answer back with "yes, and you ran it!" Hahahahaha, big mistake Jerkwad.
I very calmly (relative term) turned to him, got in his face, and informed him "if you weren't such an idiot, you would know that it's a one way stop, and you had the stop sign, not me! So go ahead and blame me, but you tried to run a stop sign, and I'd be more than happy to have a cop teach you how that works."
Then his tone changed.
And he apologized.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that was a two-way stop. I didn't realize I was the only one with a stop sign. I thought you were trying to get ahead of me for a parking space." Well, I was, but I was justified. The rules were in my favor.
OK, so he was contrite. I wanted to forgive him, but I didn't care enough about him to try. The really awkward part was that since we were walking to the line together and yelling at each other, that put us in line together too. So I walked up to the line and greeted all of my friends. He knew nobody, so I played off of my apparent popularity (slight hyperbole) and continued to make him feel like an idiot. While standing in line, at least 3 people walked up and greeted me by name. I carried on a few conversations, and meanwhile he stood there breathing down my back. I could feel him back there, and he kept trying to talk to me but I wouldn't acknowledge him. Another woman came up and everyone commented on our similar choices in clothing for the day, and he tried to make the standard "memo" joke. I ignored him again.
The stars were aligned just right today, and the rides were coming at extremely, excruciatingly long intervals. We stood in line together for at least a half an hour. I acted as if he wasn't there, but I was keenly aware of his discomfort. I could tell he was trying to "make up" with me, but I am not in a place right now where I have the ability to forgive a lot of people. I just didn't think he deserved it, no matter how apologetic he was trying to be.
It......was......just......dragging.....on....and...on. I was considering taking the next ride, no matter where it was going, just to get him off my back.
He spent a lot of time looking at his shoes and trying to insert himself into my conversations. Finally, he said, "I just want to thank you. I could've gotten into an accident. I just thought you were supposed to stop."
Here's where the pre-9AM bitch in me comes out.
I turned to him, said nothing, then turned my back to him.
The afternoon-me knows it was not exactly the most friendly and forgiving way to go about it. He was truly sorry and was trying to make up for the fact that he was a complete ass. But I just couldn't forgive him. He started my day off with a violent near-miss and followed that up with cowardly 3rd-party insults and misguided blame. It brought out too much anger and frustration out in me on a day when I was trying to start fresh with the positive attitude I so desperately need right now.
So, NO, Mr. Stop Sign Runner, I don't accept your apology. Not today.
When my ride finally came, I just walked away without even a backward glance thinking to myself "bellum omnium contra omnes" (putting 4 years of Latin to use).
There is no turning back. Once we discard the rules of the road and commuter etiquette, we launch ourselves back into a state of nature that is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."
Road rage is running rampant in the world today. People are stressed by the gas prices, and in DC we are additionally stressed by the increased volume of tourist commuters clogging up the roads during peak rush hour. The parking lots of all the commuter lots in the DC area are being filled to capacity earlier and earlier, so it is becoming a survival of the fittest, fastest, and most cunning drivers to get the few remaining spaces. It's like the mad rush at the Apple stores to get the new iPhone. You just have to do what you have to do to get what you want. I understand this.
However.
I don't accept that you can break the rules to get what you want. There is a reason we have rules, laws, and standards of acceptable behavior. If we didn't, our world would be chaos, and we would eventually die nasty, brutal deaths. But thanks to the forward-thinking wisdom and philosophy of great minds like John Locke and Thomas Hobbes and the influence they had on our Founding Fathers, we have a government with rules, laws, and standards of behavior.
One of those handy rules is that when you come to a stop sign, you stop and let the oncoming traffic that has the right of way proceed before you go. It's probably one of the most basic rules of driving that we all learn within days of entering driver's education classes.
As you can imagine, someone broke that rule this morning. But he didn't just break the rule. He broke it in such a way that I would have been justified in pressing the accelerator to the floor and making direct contact with his legs the next time I see him. But, true to my character, I didn't let him get away with it.
As if his driving violation wasn't bad enough, he copped an attitude with me. And he didn't even do that like a man. He used his cell phone as "cover" to talk smack about me. Well, Mr. Wiseass Coward didn't know who he was messing with this morning, because as he walked by telling his imaginary friend or mail-order bride about "some crazy woman who almost hit him in the parking lot" I made my position known.
For the record, if I had been in the wrong, I would not have gotten into an argument with this guy. But, as is usually case, I was right, and I made sure he knew that. I was not going to let him accuse me of not following the rules when it was HIS mistake.
So, there he was, hiding behind his wireless courage, walking directly behind me as I got out of my car. He wasn't trying to be subtle, so I wasn't going to be subtle either. I walked right up next to him, matched his pace, and said very clearly "it's called a fucking stop sign asshole." (yes, I cuss. It's a hobby) Caught off guard, but not willing to give up his pedestal he assumed was so high above mine, he stopped, held out his cell phone so he could "yell" and tried to answer back with "yes, and you ran it!" Hahahahaha, big mistake Jerkwad.
I very calmly (relative term) turned to him, got in his face, and informed him "if you weren't such an idiot, you would know that it's a one way stop, and you had the stop sign, not me! So go ahead and blame me, but you tried to run a stop sign, and I'd be more than happy to have a cop teach you how that works."
Then his tone changed.
And he apologized.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that was a two-way stop. I didn't realize I was the only one with a stop sign. I thought you were trying to get ahead of me for a parking space." Well, I was, but I was justified. The rules were in my favor.
OK, so he was contrite. I wanted to forgive him, but I didn't care enough about him to try. The really awkward part was that since we were walking to the line together and yelling at each other, that put us in line together too. So I walked up to the line and greeted all of my friends. He knew nobody, so I played off of my apparent popularity (slight hyperbole) and continued to make him feel like an idiot. While standing in line, at least 3 people walked up and greeted me by name. I carried on a few conversations, and meanwhile he stood there breathing down my back. I could feel him back there, and he kept trying to talk to me but I wouldn't acknowledge him. Another woman came up and everyone commented on our similar choices in clothing for the day, and he tried to make the standard "memo" joke. I ignored him again.
The stars were aligned just right today, and the rides were coming at extremely, excruciatingly long intervals. We stood in line together for at least a half an hour. I acted as if he wasn't there, but I was keenly aware of his discomfort. I could tell he was trying to "make up" with me, but I am not in a place right now where I have the ability to forgive a lot of people. I just didn't think he deserved it, no matter how apologetic he was trying to be.
It......was......just......dragging.....on....and...on. I was considering taking the next ride, no matter where it was going, just to get him off my back.
He spent a lot of time looking at his shoes and trying to insert himself into my conversations. Finally, he said, "I just want to thank you. I could've gotten into an accident. I just thought you were supposed to stop."
Here's where the pre-9AM bitch in me comes out.
I turned to him, said nothing, then turned my back to him.
The afternoon-me knows it was not exactly the most friendly and forgiving way to go about it. He was truly sorry and was trying to make up for the fact that he was a complete ass. But I just couldn't forgive him. He started my day off with a violent near-miss and followed that up with cowardly 3rd-party insults and misguided blame. It brought out too much anger and frustration out in me on a day when I was trying to start fresh with the positive attitude I so desperately need right now.
So, NO, Mr. Stop Sign Runner, I don't accept your apology. Not today.
When my ride finally came, I just walked away without even a backward glance thinking to myself "bellum omnium contra omnes" (putting 4 years of Latin to use).
There is no turning back. Once we discard the rules of the road and commuter etiquette, we launch ourselves back into a state of nature that is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
WWJJD
"I'm so proud of my husband," she says as they're seen gardening and hugging over the begonias. "When we talked to our doctor, we just weren't sure." They do this holding hands while she asks all the questions in Dr.'s office.
"But now that we know Viagra is safe, I love my husband all the more for making the decision." On the couch she looks at him with just the slightest self-importance as he smiles back with manly satisfaction. "After all," she says lovingly, "he's doing it for us."
_______________________________________________________________________________________
"Many times, while a woman may believe that vaginal douching prevents or helps prevent vaginal odor, especially after menstruation, douching actually disrupts the normal flora, or naturally occurring organisms that normally live in the vagina. Vaginal douching, therefore, may actually increase the risk of vaginal infection."
______________________________________________________________________________________
Uncomfortable yet?
I'm only getting started!
These days it is not uncommon to hear advertisements for condoms, viagra, vaginal creams, birth control pills, and general erectile dysfunction clinics on the radio. They have become part of our radio, television, and print landscape. Generally they are not noticed, unless you are in the company of strangers of the opposite sex. I have gotten into a car with people on more than one occasion and had one of these commercials come on. All of us sit there for 30 or 60 seconds half giggling to ourselves and half praying that they will end (depending on which side of the issue we happen to be). It's embarrassing, but it's not unbearable. If you are riding with the right people, it can become the source of great conversation or a really funny joke. (no, I don't hesitate to make jokes about vaginal itching in a car full of men if I know them) :)
But sometimes, things can happen that seem to cross the line.
"She ran her hands along his strong, wide back while they embraced passionately. Their bodies were so close that neither could tell where they ended and the other began. He parted her creamy thighs as she let out a deep, satisfied moan that relayed her eagerness to receive the pleasure he was about to give."
Imagine you get into a car and hear that...
Under some circumstances, this could be funny. Other circumstances, this could be enticing. And others, entirely too uncomfortable for words.
Lucky for you, I have found the words to convey that level of discomfort.
An older man driving an older model of a boring car approached the line and called for my destination. I scrambled for the backseat (a skill I'm improving upon every day), which left the young girl riding with me to sit up front. This is not something I normally care much about, since I have been the victim of front seat confinement on more rides than I can count. But for a while, I felt a little bad about sticking this poor girl who is interning in DC for the summer in the front seat on this particular ride.
We both jumped in and buckled our belts. We quietly sat back to "enjoy" the ride, and Mr. Personality sat gripping the steering wheel in the perfect 10-3 pattern, leaning slightly forward with his eyes fixed on the road. He followed all the rules of the road, and everything was comfortably nondescript. It was shaping up to be an ordinary ride.
Until...
The radio shifted from the traffic to something....else.
A man's voice came on and began to read a poem. It wasn't just any poem, because the words actually caught my attention. The way he read it was relatively deadpan. There wasn't anything particularly controversial about his tone. But the words he read were, for a lack of a better description, erotic. He talked of creamy thighs and throaty moans. He described groins meeting and lust building. Certain verbal pictures were left to linger for uncomfortable pauses that built into yet another verbal picture that involved bodies and sweat and serpentine movements.
I instantly became overwhelmingly aware that I had a stuck that poor intern in the front seat with someone old enough to be her Porn-pa. I didn't know whether or not this was a set-up, so I was watching Pops up front with a keen eye and a ready fist. I had it all planned out how I was going to whack him up side his fragile, age-spotted head with my enormously heavy purse filled with 3-inch heels. I watched for any sign of erotic side-glances or unwanted hand movements, but ironically nothing was happening. He sat in the driver's seat in what appeared to be a frozen position. He didn't flinch. He didn't change his hand positions on the wheel. He didn't move to change the station. He didn't shift in his seat. He did nothing. He was frozen. He appeared unaffected. This baffled me a bit.
This erotic reading continued for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes long. When it ended, I realized it was not a setup on the old man's part. The next break advertised the call letters of the station. "NPR."
I was torn between feeling overly protective, extraordinarily uncomfortable, and astronomically amused at this moment. I had a grin on my face that went unnoticed because everyone in the car was trying to act as if nothing was happening. It was awkward and funny as hell.
I can't imagine that Poor Old Mr. Jeremy (Google it) had ever imagined that listening to National Public Radio would ever cause such an uncomfortable moment. The most controversial thing I've ever heard on there was inappropriately slanted political commentary. I felt bad for him for just a minute.
I sat there wondering what was going through his feeble little mind at that moment. Was he mortified or slightly turned on that he had 2 young women in his car listening to artistic porn. (yes, I'm counting myself as young in this scenario since he's old enough to be my Dad)
Needless to say, we arrived, discreetly exited the vehicle, and laughed our asses off. No really, we laughed so damn hard.
Just ask yourself....
What would Jenna Jameson do?
"But now that we know Viagra is safe, I love my husband all the more for making the decision." On the couch she looks at him with just the slightest self-importance as he smiles back with manly satisfaction. "After all," she says lovingly, "he's doing it for us."
_______________________________________________________________________________________
"Many times, while a woman may believe that vaginal douching prevents or helps prevent vaginal odor, especially after menstruation, douching actually disrupts the normal flora, or naturally occurring organisms that normally live in the vagina. Vaginal douching, therefore, may actually increase the risk of vaginal infection."
______________________________________________________________________________________
Uncomfortable yet?
I'm only getting started!
These days it is not uncommon to hear advertisements for condoms, viagra, vaginal creams, birth control pills, and general erectile dysfunction clinics on the radio. They have become part of our radio, television, and print landscape. Generally they are not noticed, unless you are in the company of strangers of the opposite sex. I have gotten into a car with people on more than one occasion and had one of these commercials come on. All of us sit there for 30 or 60 seconds half giggling to ourselves and half praying that they will end (depending on which side of the issue we happen to be). It's embarrassing, but it's not unbearable. If you are riding with the right people, it can become the source of great conversation or a really funny joke. (no, I don't hesitate to make jokes about vaginal itching in a car full of men if I know them) :)
But sometimes, things can happen that seem to cross the line.
"She ran her hands along his strong, wide back while they embraced passionately. Their bodies were so close that neither could tell where they ended and the other began. He parted her creamy thighs as she let out a deep, satisfied moan that relayed her eagerness to receive the pleasure he was about to give."
Imagine you get into a car and hear that...
Under some circumstances, this could be funny. Other circumstances, this could be enticing. And others, entirely too uncomfortable for words.
Lucky for you, I have found the words to convey that level of discomfort.
An older man driving an older model of a boring car approached the line and called for my destination. I scrambled for the backseat (a skill I'm improving upon every day), which left the young girl riding with me to sit up front. This is not something I normally care much about, since I have been the victim of front seat confinement on more rides than I can count. But for a while, I felt a little bad about sticking this poor girl who is interning in DC for the summer in the front seat on this particular ride.
We both jumped in and buckled our belts. We quietly sat back to "enjoy" the ride, and Mr. Personality sat gripping the steering wheel in the perfect 10-3 pattern, leaning slightly forward with his eyes fixed on the road. He followed all the rules of the road, and everything was comfortably nondescript. It was shaping up to be an ordinary ride.
Until...
The radio shifted from the traffic to something....else.
A man's voice came on and began to read a poem. It wasn't just any poem, because the words actually caught my attention. The way he read it was relatively deadpan. There wasn't anything particularly controversial about his tone. But the words he read were, for a lack of a better description, erotic. He talked of creamy thighs and throaty moans. He described groins meeting and lust building. Certain verbal pictures were left to linger for uncomfortable pauses that built into yet another verbal picture that involved bodies and sweat and serpentine movements.
I instantly became overwhelmingly aware that I had a stuck that poor intern in the front seat with someone old enough to be her Porn-pa. I didn't know whether or not this was a set-up, so I was watching Pops up front with a keen eye and a ready fist. I had it all planned out how I was going to whack him up side his fragile, age-spotted head with my enormously heavy purse filled with 3-inch heels. I watched for any sign of erotic side-glances or unwanted hand movements, but ironically nothing was happening. He sat in the driver's seat in what appeared to be a frozen position. He didn't flinch. He didn't change his hand positions on the wheel. He didn't move to change the station. He didn't shift in his seat. He did nothing. He was frozen. He appeared unaffected. This baffled me a bit.
This erotic reading continued for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes long. When it ended, I realized it was not a setup on the old man's part. The next break advertised the call letters of the station. "NPR."
I was torn between feeling overly protective, extraordinarily uncomfortable, and astronomically amused at this moment. I had a grin on my face that went unnoticed because everyone in the car was trying to act as if nothing was happening. It was awkward and funny as hell.
I can't imagine that Poor Old Mr. Jeremy (Google it) had ever imagined that listening to National Public Radio would ever cause such an uncomfortable moment. The most controversial thing I've ever heard on there was inappropriately slanted political commentary. I felt bad for him for just a minute.
I sat there wondering what was going through his feeble little mind at that moment. Was he mortified or slightly turned on that he had 2 young women in his car listening to artistic porn. (yes, I'm counting myself as young in this scenario since he's old enough to be my Dad)
Needless to say, we arrived, discreetly exited the vehicle, and laughed our asses off. No really, we laughed so damn hard.
Just ask yourself....
What would Jenna Jameson do?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sweaty Butts and Bad Attitudes
Gas prices are soaring, which of course means slugging has become a much more popular commuting option for a lot of people. There is no other "free" commuting option available out there that will get you to and from work, so it should not come as a surprise that the lots are overflowing right now.
For those who don't know, the HOV closes off to regular traffic at 6:00AM. Our commuter lot is FULL, bursting beyond capacity, by 6:30AM. Cars are racing through the lot trying to get that ONE LAST SPOT, and as is usually the case, I'm a second too late and have to find an alternative. For the brave, there is the option of parking your SUV (or in some really brave cases...sedans) over the curb and into the mud. For others, they try to "blend" into a surrounding parking lot that is within walking distance of the lot, praying that their car will still be there when they return. But, just because you get a space does not mean you will get a ride or that you won't have to wait for eternity for one to come.
As you can imagine, the more the news trains us on how "bleak" and "hopeless" our economy is, the more frightened and desperate people become. The overall tone of the slug line has changed to a much more somber, less friendly environment. It's not just the riders who are feeling beaten down by our supposed economic plight. The poor drivers who feel that they have to drive are starting to become a little less friendly and cooperative these days too.
However, there is one lady who is just a bitch...always has been and always will be!
If you've been a loyal reader from the beginning, you will remember me writing about a woman who turned up her radio in response to the "good morning" greeting she received from her riders. She was a bitch then, and she was a bitch this week. I haven't seen her much in the last few months, but she's been around a lot lately. As shitty-luck lotteries go, I'm a regular winner.
Bitchita arrived in her shiny Mercedes, and I gladly slid into the leather seats thinking that at least it would be a nice ride despite the leather and the weather. I figured I would just nap and avoid any expectations of friendly banter or even cordial greetings. I didn't bother saying "hello" because I knew she wouldn't respond. As soon as, and I mean AS SOON AS, me and my fellow rider got in, she dialed up someone on her cell phone. And before I forget, let me mention that another rider to my destination noticed that she had an empty backseat, so he tapped on her window and asked if she would take a third. Can you guess her response? DING DING DING, you win! She didn't even bother to roll down her window to respond. She shook her head and looked away. Nice.
I just climbed in the back, loaded up the blessed iPod, and closed my eyes. Despite my moderately volumed iPod, I could still hear her talking to her "friend." [Not sure who would befriend this beast, but hey, it takes all kinds...] Anyway, they were discussing how expensive it is to shop at a new grocery store. This actually took up most of her time and concentration. She was swerving all over the road, gunning the gas, swerving in and out of lanes, and she decided that air conditioning in DC in the summer was superfluous. Having an intimate knowledge of the Mercedes, I looked at the internal thermometer to see just how hot it was. Going by the density of my butt sweat on her leather seats, I was guessing at least 75. That may not sound that hot, but it's inside a car, with the sun coming in, with leather seats, and body heat. I eyeballed the dash temperature gauge and was not surprised to find out that it was a cool 81 degrees in her car. Yep, 81 degrees, leather seats, 6:30AM. It was a great way to start the day.
I was not able to take a nap, in case you didn't already assume that. So when we got close to my destination, I watched closely to see if she would take the exit that would make her pass my office to get to her destination. Of course, she didn't. She took the exit that is the farthest from my office. I wasn't expecting much, but the guy in the front seat made it worse by saying "I'll just jump out here." "Here" was about 1 mile back from the main road. So, she looked in her rearview at me, and I just said, "I'm down at _______, so wherever you can let me out close to that would be great."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'M SUCH AN IDIOT
What do you suppose her response was?
She stopped at the corner and said "you can get out."
Oh yes, leaving an 81 degree Mercedes to walk over a mile in the summer heat in full business attire was exactly what I had in mind for that day. The entire way, every step, I was plotting various ways that I could punish this woman for her attitude. I was getting angrier and angrier with every sweat bead that trickled a path through my freshly applied makeup. Every step that irritated my newly formed blister became a step closer to revenge.
I can't help but to think that this woman clearly misses the point of the slugging system. She thinks it's all about her. She doesn't understand that the only way slugging works is that it be a mutually beneficial arrangement that requires both parties to cooperate and compromise. She must not be married, or if she is, her husband hates her. She is selfish, inconsiderate, and well, a bitch.
The good news is that people are catching on. If you get into a pattern, you start to learn names, faces, cars, personalities, the whole deal. She has been arriving all of a sudden at my regular line time. She has also very quickly developed a reputation.
With it being close to a holiday, the lot was relatively empty (meaning there were about 5 spaces left when I arrived), and the line was pretty long. I, and 4 others going to my destination, was standing in line for what seemed like forever. We started to chatter amongst ourselves about whether or not drivers were going to go to work today. The cars were few and far between, and we all were getting a little fidgety. Then the Benz Bitch rolled in. Those of us in the back of the line all leaned forward to look at our com padres in the front of the line and we all busted out laughing. The guy just strolled up and got in. No worries. He didn't care. The lady looked down at us and offered us her slot. We all held up our hands and insisted that she take her well-earned ride (knowing that there probably would NOT be another car). She begrudgingly got into the car, also knowing that she was going to have to hike down to our end of the world after she got abandoned in B-F-E.
It's my intention to organize a boycott of this woman's car to teach her a lesson in sharing and to send her a message that she needs us as much as we need her.
It probably won't work because, ultimately, we all just want to get to work. But it makes me feel proactive, and it prevents me from plotting different ways to sabotage her car. I like to channel my energy into more positive behaviors after all. :)
I may have passed up the last ride to my destination, but at least I wasn't walking down a major street in the capital of the free world wondering to myself "does my butt look sweaty?"
Just FYI, wait until I tell you about the arguments breaking out in the lines these days!
...to be continued!
For those who don't know, the HOV closes off to regular traffic at 6:00AM. Our commuter lot is FULL, bursting beyond capacity, by 6:30AM. Cars are racing through the lot trying to get that ONE LAST SPOT, and as is usually the case, I'm a second too late and have to find an alternative. For the brave, there is the option of parking your SUV (or in some really brave cases...sedans) over the curb and into the mud. For others, they try to "blend" into a surrounding parking lot that is within walking distance of the lot, praying that their car will still be there when they return. But, just because you get a space does not mean you will get a ride or that you won't have to wait for eternity for one to come.
As you can imagine, the more the news trains us on how "bleak" and "hopeless" our economy is, the more frightened and desperate people become. The overall tone of the slug line has changed to a much more somber, less friendly environment. It's not just the riders who are feeling beaten down by our supposed economic plight. The poor drivers who feel that they have to drive are starting to become a little less friendly and cooperative these days too.
However, there is one lady who is just a bitch...always has been and always will be!
If you've been a loyal reader from the beginning, you will remember me writing about a woman who turned up her radio in response to the "good morning" greeting she received from her riders. She was a bitch then, and she was a bitch this week. I haven't seen her much in the last few months, but she's been around a lot lately. As shitty-luck lotteries go, I'm a regular winner.
Bitchita arrived in her shiny Mercedes, and I gladly slid into the leather seats thinking that at least it would be a nice ride despite the leather and the weather. I figured I would just nap and avoid any expectations of friendly banter or even cordial greetings. I didn't bother saying "hello" because I knew she wouldn't respond. As soon as, and I mean AS SOON AS, me and my fellow rider got in, she dialed up someone on her cell phone. And before I forget, let me mention that another rider to my destination noticed that she had an empty backseat, so he tapped on her window and asked if she would take a third. Can you guess her response? DING DING DING, you win! She didn't even bother to roll down her window to respond. She shook her head and looked away. Nice.
I just climbed in the back, loaded up the blessed iPod, and closed my eyes. Despite my moderately volumed iPod, I could still hear her talking to her "friend." [Not sure who would befriend this beast, but hey, it takes all kinds...] Anyway, they were discussing how expensive it is to shop at a new grocery store. This actually took up most of her time and concentration. She was swerving all over the road, gunning the gas, swerving in and out of lanes, and she decided that air conditioning in DC in the summer was superfluous. Having an intimate knowledge of the Mercedes, I looked at the internal thermometer to see just how hot it was. Going by the density of my butt sweat on her leather seats, I was guessing at least 75. That may not sound that hot, but it's inside a car, with the sun coming in, with leather seats, and body heat. I eyeballed the dash temperature gauge and was not surprised to find out that it was a cool 81 degrees in her car. Yep, 81 degrees, leather seats, 6:30AM. It was a great way to start the day.
I was not able to take a nap, in case you didn't already assume that. So when we got close to my destination, I watched closely to see if she would take the exit that would make her pass my office to get to her destination. Of course, she didn't. She took the exit that is the farthest from my office. I wasn't expecting much, but the guy in the front seat made it worse by saying "I'll just jump out here." "Here" was about 1 mile back from the main road. So, she looked in her rearview at me, and I just said, "I'm down at _______, so wherever you can let me out close to that would be great."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'M SUCH AN IDIOT
What do you suppose her response was?
She stopped at the corner and said "you can get out."
Oh yes, leaving an 81 degree Mercedes to walk over a mile in the summer heat in full business attire was exactly what I had in mind for that day. The entire way, every step, I was plotting various ways that I could punish this woman for her attitude. I was getting angrier and angrier with every sweat bead that trickled a path through my freshly applied makeup. Every step that irritated my newly formed blister became a step closer to revenge.
I can't help but to think that this woman clearly misses the point of the slugging system. She thinks it's all about her. She doesn't understand that the only way slugging works is that it be a mutually beneficial arrangement that requires both parties to cooperate and compromise. She must not be married, or if she is, her husband hates her. She is selfish, inconsiderate, and well, a bitch.
The good news is that people are catching on. If you get into a pattern, you start to learn names, faces, cars, personalities, the whole deal. She has been arriving all of a sudden at my regular line time. She has also very quickly developed a reputation.
With it being close to a holiday, the lot was relatively empty (meaning there were about 5 spaces left when I arrived), and the line was pretty long. I, and 4 others going to my destination, was standing in line for what seemed like forever. We started to chatter amongst ourselves about whether or not drivers were going to go to work today. The cars were few and far between, and we all were getting a little fidgety. Then the Benz Bitch rolled in. Those of us in the back of the line all leaned forward to look at our com padres in the front of the line and we all busted out laughing. The guy just strolled up and got in. No worries. He didn't care. The lady looked down at us and offered us her slot. We all held up our hands and insisted that she take her well-earned ride (knowing that there probably would NOT be another car). She begrudgingly got into the car, also knowing that she was going to have to hike down to our end of the world after she got abandoned in B-F-E.
It's my intention to organize a boycott of this woman's car to teach her a lesson in sharing and to send her a message that she needs us as much as we need her.
It probably won't work because, ultimately, we all just want to get to work. But it makes me feel proactive, and it prevents me from plotting different ways to sabotage her car. I like to channel my energy into more positive behaviors after all. :)
I may have passed up the last ride to my destination, but at least I wasn't walking down a major street in the capital of the free world wondering to myself "does my butt look sweaty?"
Just FYI, wait until I tell you about the arguments breaking out in the lines these days!
...to be continued!
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