The Consequences of Sleeping with Strangers

Determined to have a restful nap this morning, I strode to the line with great excitement when I saw the line was short and cars were piling up. I knew my odds of getting a quick ride were pretty good. I recognized the person in front of me as being a regular to my location, so we chatted briefly. Within about 2 minutes of arriving, I scored a ride! My friendly "regular" bumped me out of the backseat privilege, which I knew would make napping less comfortable, but I was determined to get in a few more minutes of sleep before getting here today.

It's raining, so traffic was heavier than a "normal" day. Within 5 minutes, I was asleep. Deep, head resting on your chest, lips drooping kind of sleep. I woke briefly when the driver slammed on his wet brakes, but once I did a quick assessment and realized all was good, I hit the snooze button hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep. And I did.

The next thing to wake me up was "Oh, I took the wrong exit." Still half asleep, I once again did an assessment. Before opening my eyes, I thought to myself "great, this guy is going to take us to Rock Creek Park and murder us slowly." I tentatively opened my eyes to see him taking an exit that should have been easy to navigate in the general direction toward where we needed to go. But, when 3 strangers share a car, you never know what talents any of them have.

The driver and I were directionally retarded. I tried, as I often do when lost, to orient myself to the landmarks. I knew that this one particularly notable DC landmark was something I see from my office everyday, so I tried to mentally backtrack from there to my office. That didn't work real well. The driver handed me a map and then insisted on just going whatever direction he felt we needed to go. After about 15 minutes aimlessly wandering the one-way, wrong-way, security barricaded streets of DC, my backseat stealing friend said "we're on the wrong side of DC guys!" Well, that would have been helpful to know about 10 turns ago wouldn't it!!!

So we turned ourselves around (thank you for the few roundabouts in DC), and I tried to navigate using his tiny, mouse-sized map of DC. I couldn't tell where we were or what direction we were going in, but I was completely and utterly lost! The driver was in no better shape than me, and backseat stealer was just saying to go "south." Helpful!

We finally started to get into an area that I recognized and frequently go to. The problem is when I go into DC it's usually by Metro or someone else's car. I don't drive in DC for a good reason! It was designed by a French moron! We reached a landmark restaurant that I love to frequent, and I was pretty sure I could get us back from there. Another problem there is that I always WALK to that restaurant from work, so I cut through parks and alleys. Not terribly helpful when driving!

I started to roughly remember the general way back and maneuvered us around the dead-ends and barriers until we finally got on a street I KNEW would get us to my office.

At this point, the driver was really nervous because he was going to be late to a meeting and he still had to drop us off and drive more to get there. He was tapping his leg and muttering to himself, and I kept feeling a little stupid for not knowing my way around the city I've worked in for YEARS! But then I thought to myself, "wait a minute self! You were a passenger in his car. HE was supposed to know how to get you there!"

We finally made it here an HOUR late, and I couldn't help but laugh. I felt bad for him for being late to his meeting, but I was late to work too! It took us an hour to navigate through DC to go just a few miles! It was pathetic. We had a collective navigation brain trust of negative zero!

I started to think to myself...I would never go on a date without being prepared. I'm thinking I should never get in another car without a map at least.

Traffic Jam Kit

Despite my consistent cynicism, I've remained relatively optimistic about my commuting arrangement. I manage to successfully slug to my office on average about 17 times a month. There are times when I have to bend a bit to get to or from work, but generally, the system works for me. There are other times when I need more flexibility, so I drive. I don't like to do it because sleeping behind the wheel is heavily frowned upon in VA. I drive on occasion, and I usually don't enjoy it. But I have a good reason.

At first, I thought it was a coincidence. After a very good sampling of driving occurrences, I concluded that I have the curse. Every time I drive, and I mean EVERY time I drive, there is a traffic jam of some sort. Most days, I get to and from work in 45 minutes or less. That barely gives me enough time to fall into a decent REM. I don't mind traffic jams when I'm a passenger because I generally sleep through them. But, I have once again angered the gods of commuting because whenever I drive I get the major backups.

I drove to work twice last week, and both times, BOTH TIMES, there was a major backup on 95 that cost me nearly an hour! Not just once, but BOTH times I drove! This has happened to me before, but only in scattered circumstances since I haven't driven very often. When I randomly had to drive 2 days in a row, and on both days I got stuck in massive jams, I knew it was me.

On day 1 of this 2-day hell excursion, I joked with a passenger that it always happened to me when I drive. One of them predictably said "remind me to never ride with you again." Well, now. That wasn't very nice. So, already being tired and grumpy, I had to retort, "at least that means I'm BEHIND the accident and not IN it." Then I told him he couldn't ride with me anymore. :)

On day 2, I rode in with a crazy woman who kept saying that she was nothing but a slug and couldn't speak her mind. (Not that anybody asked, mind you) At one point, I sarcastically thanked a guy for cutting me off, and she piped up with an offer to teach me some expletives she learned in the military. I asked her why she was talking to me and reminded her that she was just a slug. The behemoth sitting in the front seat had her iPod SO loud that I could hear every single note and lyric of her awful music over top of my music playing at a moderate volume. I noticed whenever I would say something she would take her earphones out, so I spent a lot of time talking about nothing at all just to annoy her.

So both times I drove, I was stuck in a traffic jam with annoying people and very little escape or distraction. I know I usually get it pretty easy, but that particular arrangement royally sucks. The next time I drive, I will have my traffic jam kit prepared. One of the supplies will be a perfected physical tick that will scare the crap out of my passengers. If I'm going to get stuck with them, I might as well have some fun!

I had one of those uniquely interesting rides into work today, and I can't wait to talk about it.

I rode in this morning with a couple of really talkative 20-ish mechanics (yes, mechanics--referring mentally back to my post on commuter uniforms). I've gotten a ride from them before, so I knew I was safe (well, from a murderer at least). I couldn't have enjoyed this particular ride more!

I started out a bit annoyed because I was dead tired and just wanted to sleep. The car was an old beat up sedan of some sort (why do all mechanics drive crappy cars?), and it smelled like an ashtray at a bar. Everything was dirty, and I felt like I had to stay completely still once I burrowed into a somewhat clean spot. Neither the driver nor the passenger believed in that outdated, stuffy old rule of wearing your seatbelt, so I was relatively sure that I was going to die with greasy mechanics in my lap should we crash on the way in. As I closed my eyes to try to recapture a really great dream I had, I was rudely awakened by entirely too much perkiness coming from a guy.

Mr. Goodwrench #1 excitedly asked me how I've been. Apparently, he remembers me from previous experiences. Since I knew he was a talker, I tried to keep my answers short to prevent further conversation. Apparently, there's no such method in his car. I made a joke about how much life sucks (OK, maybe not a "joke" but he didn't know that), and that opened the door to him spilling all too many details about his presently "happy" life. Here are some of the things I learned.

1. He is getting a lot of money back on his taxes because he has a lot of kids from other women.

2. He likes to exact revenge by destroying people's cars.

3. His previous girlfriend(s) left him after getting boob-jobs.

4. His wife is getting a boob-job.

5. His sister is a scary lesbian.

5. His passenger friend likes to beat people up who don't like the way he talks. (I lovingly complemented his lisp several times before leaving.)

6. Mechanics' grease does not blend well with tan colored clothes.

7. He likes to be a gentleman, but he rarely remembers (his words.)

8. He will beat up anyone I want taken care of since my old Mob connections are all in jail.

9. He takes it very personally when someone flinches at his apparent inability to judge the distance between the stopped car in front of him and his own bumper.

10. His "yee haw" was genuine.

11. He aspires to have all of his kids under one roof in a new double-wide.

12. It's perfectly OK to put your own redneck spin on Eminem's style.

13. Being a redneck is a badge of honor for most. For him, it's a way of life.

14. I'm the "coolest bitch" he's ever driven to DC.

Damn straight!

The Commuter Uniform

While you find hundreds of people with hundreds of unique personality traits commuting out of one lot, you will find some predictable commonalities. Most of us wear the "commuter uniform."

On a typical, cold day at the sluglot, you will find most women wearing their heavy coats and shoes that don't quite work with their outfits. We all wear our commuter shoes because, hey, let's face it, high heels are hard on your feet and easily ruined. So you see most women standing in line with expensive suits or dresses and chunky sneakers or Crocs (ick) or some sort of comfy slip-on. I personally have several options depending on the season. If the weather is wet and icky, I wear Uggs. If it's cold but dry, I wear slip-on, lined clogs. If it's hot, I wear flip-flops. I'm a beach girl after all! Men, you have it too good. Most men just wear their neat little tie-up business shoes without a second thought.

Beyond shoes, we all, men and women, seem to carry a plethora of bags. Women have their purses of course, but it seems we all go a step further on that one. I personally carry a purse (very large), an extra bag for shoes, books, hat, scarf, gloves, etc etc, a lunch box that won't fit in either of the other 2 bags, and on occasion I carry a laptop bag. Most of my fellow commuters share the same burden. Even the men seem to be carrying backpacks, laptop bags, lunch boxes, and man-bags. We all stand in line leaning this way or that and banging into each other with our bag collections.

On top of the commuter shoes and bags, nearly all of us share one other thing in common. We are all heading into DC, and one of the most common, easily identifiable characteristics of a DC worker is the badge lanyard. If you work in Washington DC, chances are you have to carry at least 1 ID badge that swipes you in and out of your building and keeps you from being thrown into a detainee prison. I personally carry 3, but that's on the light end of what most people must carry. We all walk around with our badges swinging left and right, and we all ignore them.

We all coexist and commute with our commuter uniforms, and everything works out just fine. It's when someone is not wearing the commuter uniform that we all sort of stand on edge.

Today, a man in his mid to late thirties was standing in line and everyone was keeping a distance. He stood there, innocently enough, but it was his lack of a commuter uniform of any kind that made us all suspicious. He was wearing sort of dirty jeans, a tee shirt and light jacket, a baseball hat, and very well-worn sneakers. He wasn't carrying a bag. He wasn't wearing a badge of any kind. He was just a guy waiting for a ride.

If you stop and think about it, so what? There are no rules that state that only DC professionals are allowed to slug. There are no laws that say you can't slug unless you wear a badge. But it's what we are all used to, and we get suspicious if someone doesn't fit the bill. We stereotype for a reason. It helps us categorize hundreds of strangers to determine who is and is not a threat. We can't know someone's soul based on their appearance, and we all know that a suit does not make you any less a criminal. But we all stand in judgment when someone stands out like a blinking red "danger" sign. I may joke about the possibility of commuter homicide when riding with strangers, but let's face it, it's a very real possibility.

If I was driving, and this man would have gotten into my car, I would admittedly be freaking out the whole way to work. In the area where I work, there are not a lot of people who would have cause to be down there unless they work for the government in some capacity. What protections do we have if someone is not wearing the uniform?

Remember that the whole slug concept was started by military servicemembers commuting to the Pentagon. They all wear recognizable uniforms and badges, and even out of uniform they all seem to be easily identifiable.

So, now I'm trying to prepare myself for what I would do if someone like that gets into my car OR is going to the same destination as me and ends up sharing a ride. With all the craziness in the world, I'm thinking I might need to add mace to my commuter uniform.

Luck of the Draw

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?)

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.

Tales From the Sluglot: A Notable Return

Tales From the Sluglot: A Notable Return