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.

The Penguin v Batman

There is a man in my slug line whom we all refer to as The Penguin.  It's not necessarily a knock on his appearance, but it's a conveniently accurate comparison.  He's about 5'2" and 3' wide, in his (I'm guessing) 50s, and waddles like The Penguin when he walks.  But that's not why he stands out.  He stands out because he's annoying as HELL. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a morning person, and my tolerance is fairly low for other people before I've been up for quite a few hours.  I also have extreme sensitivity to unusual and/or repetitive noises.  So this guy really gets under my skin for a lot of reasons.  He is my commuting nemesis. 

He waddles up and down the line at 5AM talking to his "friends" at ridiculously inappropriate volumes about mind-numbingly boring crap that nobody wants to hear.  Because the line moves fairly frequently as drivers rescue us pathetic slugs from him, he has to repeatedly waddle back to his spot to move his bag that is holding his place in line.  On top of that, if you end up having to ride with him, his annoyance factor multiplies by a million.  He inhales and exhales very loudly with great exaggeration, he mumbles under his breath (unless you get really lucky and he knows the driver well enough to talk the whole damn way), and he does this really really really really annoying thing where he rubs his hands back and forth on his legs, making it sound like he's masturbating (sometimes I wonder if he is, but the fear of seeing that and never unseeing it keeps me from looking). 

The first thing I do when I arrive at the lot is do a quick Penguin scan.  I have to identify where he is in line and try to avoid riding with him.  His annoyance factor is enough to ruin my entire day.  So when I do see him and determine that I could be standing next to him in line, I will linger in my car, walk really really slowly, set fires, whatever it takes to avoid him.

Today, despite my best attempts, I couldn't avoid it.  I was trapped with him, and by the time I got to work, I was almost catatonic from trying to tune him out.  The only thing that kept me somewhat lucid was replaying this in my head:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1byycwl8qgc

Shhhh, not so loud.  You'll wake him.

Don't Call It a Comeback!

I've been here for years.  (Yes, I just quoted LL Cool J)   Don't Call It a Comeback!

I had switched jobs that changed my slugging status to driver for a while, and the stories just weren't interesting enough to write.  But I've switched jobs again and have started slugging again.  By request, I'm going to relaunch this blog.  Everyone calm yourselves.  I know you are excited, but you have to let me get my rhythm back!

With the new HOT lanes on 95, there's an influx of new drivers who are clueless to slugging etiquette and norms.  The material endlessly writes itself.  So no worries.  I will be up and active ASAP!

A Cautionary Tale

No, I haven't been mangled by a wreck on I-95 (hopefully never will), nor have I given up the DC commute for the simple life (I wish). I'm still here, but very little happens these days that could be blog worthy. I've settled into a decent routine that doesn't involve a whole lot of interesting stories. But now I have one that is absolutely worth coming back for!

Here goes (Warning, this posting may offend the particularly chaste):

I jumped into the backseat of a dark, mid-sized SUV for my ride into work. I didn't recognize this woman and had to ask if she was, indeed, going to my destination. She confirmed, and off we went.

As usual, I settled in for my quick nap with my excess baggage on the floor at my feet. I closed my eyes and dreamed of happier places and happier times. As if an internal alarm were set, I woke up 2 blocks from my office building and began to gather up my bags and gloves. It was at this point that I noticed something out of the ordinary in the dark floorboard behind the driver's seat.

The sun was not yet up, as I am required to be at work before the dead are required to awaken, and it was hard to tell what I was seeing at first. I turned to look more closely, squinting my eyes to better make out the figure in the floor. It was bright, bright fluorescent orange. The kind of orange you'd find in a roadside safety kit. After further inspection, I realized that this object did not fall loose from a roadside safety kit. At least no roadside safety kit that I've ever seen available for purchase.

There in the floor behind the driver's seat sat a bright orange, black-tipped, vibrator.

Whatever her emergency needs may be, at least she was being safety conscious. Now I have to go home and burn my winter coat, gloves, handbag, and carry-all bag before immersing myself in a boiling hot vat of acid.

Old Friends

Over the last 2 years, a lot has happened and a lot has changed. The personalities are free-flowing, gradually shifting in and out of the slugging psyche. You seem some of the "regular" personalities, and then they disappear. Sometimes you find yourself wondering about where some of them have gone. For example, my mind still wanders to the pervert, the pimp, the still high school bitches, and the maniac driver. Because I go to the same place, every day, at the same time, I expect to see the same people. Sometimes that happens, and sometimes it doesn't.

Occasionally, I see someone drive up in line that I will acknowledge with a casual smile and wave as they pick up someone else. There are times when I see someone I haven't seen in a while, and I'm genuinely happy to see their face again. There are other times when I try to look away to avoid any unnecessary contact with someone I don't like because I know my facial expressions always betray me and show EXACTLY how I feel about someone in one look.

There are new people slugging these days, and I can no longer calculate with certainty how many people are ahead of me in line. Sometimes I figure I would get the next ride but 2 people step out in front of me, leaving me to wonder "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU????"

Yesterday, I was praying for a long line of unfamiliars to be in front of me so I could avoid one of my least favorite people on the planet. Yes, you guessed it, I hopped in with Benz Bitch, much to my dismay.

The REALLY funny part is that I jumped in the backseat, leaving the front seat available to the next unlucky slugger to walk up. We had to sit and wait for a few minutes because the line was thin and there were no other riders to our destination. Imagine the awkward silence? Well, there wasn't any because Benz Bitch started arguing with people in the line. hehe

There was some "confusion" resulting from misdirection and miscommunication on the part of the people at the front of the line. They were yelling the wrong destinations to those of us in the back, and Benz Bitch had actually been left sitting there for an extended pause because the ladies in the front were yelling to us in the back that she was going to an entirely different place. I KNEW where she was going, but I thought I'd hit the lottery and avoided having to ride with her because she had somewhere else to go. Nope, the stupid bitches at the front of the line were just ....well...stupid. They couldn't keep the cars' destinations straight and were confusing us in the back of the line. Even after I cleared it up and reluctantly climbed in, they still couldn't get it right.

Then, they had the NERVE to complain about Benz Bitch just "sitting there, not moving up." Hmmmm, well clearly they had underestimated the character they were trying to passively aggressively attack, because she heard THAT and went OFF. Then there came a lot of head wagging and attitude flying between Benz Bitch and Stupid Bitches 1 and 2. This seemed to go on forever. Well, just long enough for someone else to walk up at the exact moment that Benz Bitch decided to move her car up a few feet as she delivered her last zing at the 'Tard Captains. Poor slugger #2, who I know quite well, had his hand on the door handle and almost got it ripped off as she drove up. He stepped back in time to not lose a limb, and EVERYONE in line started shouting at Benz Bitch. Since she didn't see slugger #2 almost get dragged, the fact that everyone yelled at her really set her off.

Finally slugger #2 landed safely in the front seat of honor, and we FLEW out of the lot. I mean, she GUNNED it, pedal to the metal, please-god-don't-let-any-pedestrians-step-out-now kind of speed. I think we took the corner on two wheels, but I can't be sure.

She was mad and she was hanging on to it for the entire ride. Briefly, I appreciated her little oh-no-you-didn't exchange, and I thought....yeah, I'd probably do that too if it was me. But our bonds were severed when she decided to drive the way she was talking. Once she cleared the parking lot, she turned on her radio to an eardrum piercing maximum volume. There's nothing like listening to Steve Harvey at maximum volume at 6AM. She was mad, and she was going to make sure that not a SOUL said or breathed anything to her for the entire ride.

Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep this one out. She was crossing 3 lanes of traffic at full speed without signaling, and doing it repeatedly. She was chatting on her cell phone to a "friend" while trying to adjust the heat to the heavily-roasted setting (I get cold, but damn.). Then she turned up the radio AGAIN when a song came on in between Steve Harvey's rants about "girl you goin do whatchyou goin do." Yeah, OK.

I was gasping for thick, hot air every time she had a near miss with another car, and I was certain that nobody would have heard my screams for help as our car teeter-tottered off the edge of the 14th Street bridge over the sound of Mary J. Blige's untalented squeals of female-empowerment.

Oh, and did I mention that the traffic was backed up because of an accident? Yeah, it was THAT day. I get my good old friend Benz Bitch, when she's pissed at the world, on a day when I have to endure her inherent bitchassness for more than the typical commute time.

Hey old friend, it's nice to see you again.