Smellapalooza

One thing I've learned is that you get exposed to all kinds of people when you slug to work. You meet some really wonderful, friendly, helpful people who shower, and you meet some really nasty people with bad attitudes or smelly bodies. Lucky for me, I won the stink lottery this morning.

It's the Friday before my vacation, and I'm leaving early today. For my reward, I get to the lot ready to drive my fellow commuters to work, and I find that nobody is there. So I wait....and wait...and wait. A few people begin to straggle in, and I decide to call out multiple destinations until I get lucky. My second destination call proves to be lucky with one man as he climbs into the front seat. He's the kind of guy who likes to exercise before work, which means he does his workout when he gets there and THEN he showers. It appears he also likes to work out at night because he smelled like a moldy gym bag full of sweaty jock straps. I'm thinking to myself "great, he wants to sit up front with me."

Then another gentleman wanders up and takes me up on my offer. He climbs in the backseat, and his smell actually outpowered Mr. Clean up front. Coming from the backseat, you KNOW that he smelled bad, but this was a uniquely bad smell. He smelled like a dirty hamster cage. Those of you who had hamsters as a kid know what I mean. It's a sort of pissy cedar chip smell mixed with sweaty fur and rat poop. You know, the point that your cage reached when your parents didn't have to tell you to clean out the cage because even you couldn't take it anymore. Yes, that was him in all his non-seatbelt wearing glory. I'm hoping his smell doesn't stick to the babyseat!

I know it's Friday, and I know lots of folks are going on vacation after today (ME INCLUDED), but SERIOUSLY, can you not shower before going to work? I understand the desire to stay in bed a little later on Friday mornings. I get that completely. But power-showers are worth the effort. In fact, Al Gore says short showers will stop global warming (probably because your noxious dirty body fumes aren't depleting the ozone layer?). Either way, do your part to contribute to the health of all current and future generations by showering and applying a generous amount of deodorant--stick or aerosol are fine with me.

But before I conclude for the next beautiful week, I must ask the one question that may never receive an answer.

How does a grown man come to smell like a hamster cage?

Talkin' about Revolution

Sometimes I feel like I'm in the spin-cycle of WTF. (Yes, we all know what that means, and I spelling it out would be inappropriate. You can say it out loud in your own head, but then who would be the potty mouth?) :) There are days when everywhere I look I discover something that makes me ask the quasi-rhetorical question of "WTF?" But I digress.....

There is a woman who frequents our little slug line, and she is either campaigning to be "Ruler of the Free World," "Captain of the Safety Patrol," or "Supreme Line Leader." I'm thinking she'll take any of the above positions should they be offered to her.

Unfortunately for us all, she goes to one of those locations that doesn't get a lot of traffic, so she's generally in line for a long time. And she screws up EVERYTHING!!!! In some cases, her "input" has almost gotten people steamrolled by confused drivers.

Recently, I arrived on the Grey Mile, and she was positioned roughly in the upper-middle part of the line. She has the ability to make her voice carry long distances, much to the despair of my one remaining good ear, and she likes to call out the drivers' requests. She gets so carried away that she starts to call them out incorrectly, especially when the cars start to stack up. For example, someone will pull up and call out "Pentagon." She will yell out "Pentagon" and if nobody responds before the next car pulls up and calls out "L'Enfant" she will start to get confused. I don't know if she's ADHD or just not capable of multitasking, but she starts to confuse the locations. The results are people wandering up to cars they shouldn't be getting into and then jumping back out when they realize they are in the wrong car. In the meantime, someone behind that person has taken their ride from them because they were lucky enough to figure it out first. People are hopping in and out of line, and it's TOTAL mass confusion. At one point, she was pointing people to cars and telling them to hurry up. She's yelling at other cars to move up as people are crossing in front of them. For SOME reason, our line is predominantly populated by lemmings because they are blindly following this lady's "directions."

I am going to run with the theory that she was either denied a position in the safety patrol in elementary school or she lost several elections for class president in high school.

Lucky for me, I'm developing my own little reliable "clique" of riders and drivers, and we all look out for each other. We basically use hand signals and codes to coordinate our ride sequence. I, former safety patrol member and elected student government official, have created a well-oiled process for moving riders and drivers through our line for our particular destination without the input of this disorganized scatter-brain. We all sort of giggle when she tries to intervene. Everyone else can have her.

Right now, our little sluglot runs itself without official governance. As our Founding Fathers reminded us, bad government is not a viable alternative to anarchy. Right now, our lot is facing anarchy as a result of bad government. Madame Line Leader, may I suggest you back off and mind your business before you face a revolution you can't handle!

Viva la sluglot!

Keep on Truckin'

I’ve been taking a bit of a break from blogging to try to regain some focus. I have had people tell me that I should focus more on the “positives” of slugging. I’ve been mulling that thought over for quite some time, and I have basically concluded that I’m one of those people that perform better when complaining. In the spirit of optimism, I’m going to attempt a positive entry; however, not right now.

First, I have to complain. I have so many after all these weeks that I don’t even know where to start! OK, yes I do!

I’m going to start with the obnoxious, completely oblivious, self-centered big-truck drivers. Parking in a commuter lot is at a premium in some places. I happen to be in one of those places. I arrive at the same time, give or take a minute or two, every morning. On some mornings, parking is plentiful. On more mornings than I care to remember, I end up driving because the lot is full. But on most mornings, I’m squealing into the last available space. This morning was no exception, but the problem is that when the person parked in front of me leaves to go home he’s going to be towing my car. Let me explain.

There is a phenomenon here in the United States. Despite the high gas prices and the lack of necessity, we have a large population of people, particularly men, who like to drive gigantic, enormous trucks. I believe, but I could be wrong, that these trucks were invented for the “working man” to haul his various work supplies. There are all kinds of justifiable reasons for owning a large pickup truck. Construction, landscaping, repair work, etc, etc, etc. HOWEVER, if your big ass truck is parked in a commuter lot, odds are pretty good that you don’t need it to do your job. I’m guessing the main reason it’s parked there is because it uses up 50 gallons of gas a minute, and you can’t afford to drive to work in it. So, since we’ve established that you are an idiot, I can move on to why you are also a jerk.

I personally do not care what a person drives. I’m not an environmentalist. I believe global warming is a good thing. Bring on the warm weather! I don’t slug to save the environment. I slug because it gets me to work faster, and I can nap. I DO care when your vehicle invades my precious space. There are at least THREE trucks that are REPEAT OFFENDERS, daily, on this particular topic. One guy pulls into his space with his enormous truck, and he always parks over the line. So basically, unless you drive a mini cooper, you can’t fit a car into that space. In most cases, that’s a wasted space. Not for me, though. Today, it was the last space. Let’s just say that my car is hitching a ride home today because my front bumper is on top of his hitch ball. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I did it intentionally. I hope when he pulls off he damages my vehicle because I wrote down his license plate number. There is another guy who does a similar thing but he can’t really help it because his truck is SO long that he can’t park in just one space. I’m thinking that if you need a truck that large for daily life, you probably shouldn’t be working in Washington DC. To add insult to injury, he actually back-parks into the space!!! So, many times, I’m pulling into the lot and I have to wait for 5 minutes while he maneuvers his 18-wheeler into 2 parking spaces. I’ve parked on top of him before as well. But the back-parking! UUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Why do you men feel the need to prove your "manliness" by demonstrating to the world that you can drive not only forward, but backward as well. It's like a genetic programming that evolved out of the frustration of the horseback riders who couldn't get their horse to go in reverse. I don't really see how parking your car backwards makes you more of a man. I can parallel park. Does that make me bisexual?

The arrogance of these truck drivers makes me mental! They simply don’t care that they are screwing someone out of the opportunity to commute to work because they feel the need to own a monster truck.

To end my little rant, I must address the ignorant ass who thinks that the commuter lot is a used car lot and parks and LEAVES his car there with signs all over it. I can assure you that NOBODY in that lot is looking at your broken down, beat up piece of junk that is taking a permanent parking space and thinking “hmmm, let me buy that.” So, MOVE IT. Unless you are paying for that spot, and you aren’t, you need to move that crap NOW. The next time I have to drive because there isn’t any parking left, I’m going to buy some window paint and paint “TOW ME” all over the windows!

I don’t know about you, but these little complaints are cathartic. That which I cannot change makes me angrier. And I deal with it by writing about it.

For the record, I’ve made lots of friends by slugging. There are people I commute with nearly everyday, and I have come to really like them. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop complaining!

So, if you are a regular reader, feel free to weigh in. Want me to tell more of the positive stories? I have to warn you that I have to leave a lot of details out because of the need for anonymity, so there aren't going to be as many "nice stories." I'd love to hear from you! :)

Choice or Fate?

I found myself pondering one of those "life questions" on my ride to work today. It was bizarre how it happened, and the question itself might seem a little odd to you. Stick with me for a minute and see if you end up making the same observation I did.

I got into my ride this morning, and I immediately settled into the cold leather backseat (I practically had to knock the guy down who was in line behind me and was trying to steal my coveted backseat approach). Anyway, with it being a Monday morning, I settled myself into what I assumed would be a quiet uneventful ride that would give me the benefit of quiet commuter slumber. For the most part it was. I dozed in and out of consciousness, repeatedly stirred awake by the oscillating volume levels of the local news station. I couldn't understand why this guy needed to turn his radio up so loud, and I was a little fuzzy when I would open my eyes to see what was going on.

It was in the semi-awake state of mind that I made an odd observation. The guy driving this car looked like his car.

NO, really, I'm not doing drugs. That fuzzy state was completely sleep-induced.

Let me explain. I won't tell you the exact details of this guy's car because I have to maintain a certain amount of anonymity, so forgive me if I take creative license to make my point.

The man driving was older, roughly late 50s. His hair was about 90% grey. His face was sort of boxy and showed his age relatively clearly. He seemed sturdy and reserved, and he was quietly classy. He's not the splashy type. I don't see him going out to pierce his ear, buy a Corvette, and start picking up young women half his age. He seemed more like the type that has been married for 25+ years, has kids and probably grandkids, and loves his life just the way it is. He seems like the type who would be loyal to the very end. I got the sense that he likes to live a comfortable life but nothing too extravagent. His car suited him. I just can't describe it any better than this. He LOOKED like his car. It was as if he and his car found each other.

His hair blended into the pale grey leather seats. His car was new, well-maintained, clean, but it was not flashy. It was a sturdy car that is American-made but has a slightly more luxurious appearance. It sort of resembles a very high-dollar classic luxury vehicle, but it's clearly not too expensive. The car has all the basic comforts of a higher-end vehicle, but it's not over the top. The car seemed like the kind that would run for a long time as long as it's maintained well. The body style, particularly in the front, was boxy and reserved.

I've always looked at cars from the perspective that they provide transportation. I have owned a luxury vehicle, but even that was not at the top end (or even lower middle) of the class. I try to buy based on utility first, then I move to appearance. But I look back over the years at all the cars I have owned, and I ask myself "did I look like my cars?" What a depressing thought! The first car I ever bought was right after high school. It was a white, 2 door Geo Metro (if anyone laughs at any of this, you will be cursed with high gas prices for eternity). It was compact, dependable, plain, and it had a little bubble butt. So far, things are lining up.

My next car was an "upgrade" to my 2 door Geo Metro, the 4 door. It was dark blue (what was I thinking) and still had a bubbly behind. Like me, the car was expanding and could fit a little more junk in the trunk. It was a little more colorful, but soon it's distinct color annoyed me. I was still discovering myself, but I stuck with that car for a whole lot of years. That car gave me virtually zero problems. I only had to do basic maintainence on it, and I never had any major mechanical failures. It was still running like a champ when I sold it to the nearest CarMax. I almost felt guilty selling it after being so reliable all those years, but I was trading up to a more luxurious car.

At this point, I had finished college and landed a really good job. I was "moving up" in the world, or so I thought, so I decided to reward myself with an affordable extravagent expense. It was an indulgence, but I LOVED driving that car. It was a two-door, and it purred like a panther getting its belly rubbed (especially at high speeds---or so I hear). The seats seemed to mold to my body, and the overall look of the car suited me just fine. It was a little sporty, but still with a classic overall appearance. It had a bit of a bubble butt as well (anyone noticing a trend here?), but it was a great car. At this point, I made the declaration that I will only own black cars. When they are cleaned and polished, nothing can compare. Black is classic and always holds up. It never goes out of style, leaving you with a car that you get sick of looking at everytime you get in. That car was kick-ass, and that's at least how I felt for a while.

About a year or so after I bought my little kick-ass car, I got pregnant. I instantly knew that my vehicular love-affair was going to have to end, because it doesn't make sense to have a baby in a two-door sports car. OR DOES IT? I somehow managed to manipulate me and my baby in and out of the backseat of that car for a couple of years before I finally gave up. I kept telling myself that the car was safer than most other options on the road, even if it was a two-door. But I eventually caved in and bought an SUV.

My current SUV, more of a mini-SUV--NOT A MINIVAN--, is of course black. It's sturdy, reliable, and utilitarian. There's nothing flashy about it. It has only the basic options, and it's relatively plain and does its job. It does have a big trunk to accommodate my various child-transporting needs (the trend continues). I think it fits who I am right now in my life.

So upon reflection, I really do think that our cars are a reflection of who we are. What does that say about the insane number of Toyotas and various types of SUVs on the road? I think it's entirely possible that our cars tend to match our personalities at the time we purchase them. In some rare cases, the cars match our physical appearance as well. In those cases, I believe the car-driver relationship is more one of fate and not choice.

The next time you are driving, preferably riding, take a look at the people driving the cars around you. Do you see a connection?

What do you think? Do we choose our cars or do they choose us?

Live From DC....It's Tuesday Morning!

There are times when we are all surrounded by annoying people. Commuting to and from work everyday with strangers increases the likelihood of encountering those people with great regularity. If you've gotten to know me at all, you will know that I am probably a little more easily annoyed than most. I just have a low idiot threshold, and I generally like to be left alone in the morning while my brain tries to wake up and prepare itself for the day. (This takes longer as I get older)

Where am I going with this? Right...

A New Guy showed up at the sluglot this morning, and I will be perfectly content to never see or hear from him ever again....ever (never ever).

Mr. NG is a somewhat attractive (wouldn't have noticed if he didn't bring attention to himself), well-dressed, mid-thirties-ish, and annoying as ALL HELL! No exaggerations necessary.

What can be so bad about this poor guy you ask? He is what Saturday Night Live sketches are made of! In fact, the folks at SNL probably know this guy and use him as a muse FREQUENTLY!

This man comments on everything to everyone, and he doesn't care who is or is not listening.

I was standing in line for a good 5 minutes when he sauntered up to the line. He was about 8 to 10 people behind me in line, but distance did not make the heart grow fonder. He was able to broadcast his annoyance all the way to my spot in line and beyond. I didn't notice at first because I thought he was talking to a friend. I tuned him out, as I do most people at 6AM. But his voice just kept pinging on my fragile sound barrier, and I eventually stopped trying to tune him out to see what was going on with this guy. Nobody has a need to talk that much that early in the morning.

First, I listened.

"Wow, that's the second car going to the Pentagon."
"Gee, nice Escalade."
"Could that guy pull up?"
"Wow, his car is clean."
"It's getting cold outside."
"Yesterday was nice!"
"I think the line is moving."

OK, besides being the King of Obvious-land, he was just saying this stuff out loud to nobody in particular. That notches him up on the annoying ladder by at least 10 spots (basically putting him at the top). All of these little comments happened within the space of about 5 minutes (or less).

Dying of curiosity, I had to turn my head down in his direction to see what was going on. I fully expected him to be a paste-eating IT nerd (no offense to all you IT nerds out there--yes there are IT people who AREN'T nerds, but I'm not talking to you!). He turned out to be normal looking. So I started watching the people around him. I started to notice that people were increasingly focusing their attention in directions opposite from him. It was almost like he had just announced he has mouth cooties and everyone was trying to avoid getting them.

King Obvious did not seem deterred as he continued to comment on everything.

"The bus has already made 2 complete routes."
"I'm going to get to work on time if the next ride is mine."
"The writers might be going back to work soon."
"My bag is heavy."
"I forgot my scarf."

Why are you talking to yourself sir? Do your friends find you as annoying as the strangers around you, so you end up talking to yourself a lot? Are you just oblivious to the fact that this stuff leaks out of your brain, down into your mouth, and out into public air? Have you convinced yourself that your input is so valuable that everyone must receive it?

I just don't understand how life and circumstances haven't broken you of such a nasty habit. Can you imagine being on a date with this guy?

"Wow, a salt shaker."
"Look, the waiter is coming this way."
"My pants are too tight."
"Your hair is long."
"The sky is blue."

Oh come on! I can't handle this level of annoyance this early in the morning!!!! Stop making the running commentary! If you want to be a sportscaster, go audition at NBC, in another state so I don't accidentally end up watching you. In the meantime stop talking!

Perhaps you would be good at something else that would make you move far, far, far away from DC and would prevent you from commuting with other strangers.

But I'm not that lucky am I?

Really?

OK, without giving too much away, I'm short. Not midget-like mind you! But I'm horizontally challenged in such a way that I don't require a lot of leg room in a vehicle. I do, however, require SOME leg room. Not much, just a little.

The rides were few and far between this morning, and I was about to give up on my destination and try for somewhere else. Just as I was thinking this, a driver called out for my beloved destination. I was excited because this was going to save me some unpleasant commuting options on an already cold and crappy Friday. But here's the kicker....I could BARELY get in the backseat at all!

The driver had his wife, girlfriend, mistress, whatever with him, and she decided that she was going to have a nice leisurely horizontal nap on the way to work. Since the other side of the backseat was completely blocked by a mountain of garbage, yes there were some food wrappers, cups, and various other unpleasantries, I had no choice but to sit behind this rude monster.

Let me see if I can use my rusty literary skills to paint a verbal picture of how this went down.

There I was, my short little stumps squeezing in behind this full reclined seat. Her seat was SO close that I had to literally put a leg on EITHER side of the seat. I couldn't curl up my legs any closer. I had to literally give birth to her damn seat the entire way to work. To make it worse, the seat was leather, and you know how much I hate leather seats.

On top of that, her hair stunk like she's never washed it, and it was right in my face the ENTIRE time. I was wearing a scarf around my neck, and I decided that it would make a good mask. So I covered up my nose and mouth to avoid sucking in her hair mites while I did what I could to control the contractions.

Because I wasn't squeezed in tight ENOUGH behind her apparently, she kept pushing BACK against me in the seat. For a minute, I considered lighting her hair on fire, but I figured I was too trapped to escape from the inferno that would surely be caused by the greasepit she's collecting on her head. Although, the smell of burning flesh and hair would have been an improvement. I still don't know if she was pushing back because she could feel my legs groping for space or because she really was just that rude. Either way, the only thing that got me through the ride was letting myself imagine 10 different ways to crawl over her body in case of an accident.

All I can say is if I had been stuck in THAT car behind THAT beast on Tuesday, this would have ended differently.

Since I wasn't and it didn't, I did my best to behave and exit like a lady.

When they pulled up to my spot, I opened the door and with GREAT fanfare and many grunts and groans "attempted" to remove myself from the stirrups of her seat. Being a little overly dramatic, I decided to turn myself horizontal in the seat and exit feet first laying on my back. (I did my best to not dip my head in their precious trash collection). The driver said "oh do you need some help?" Gasping for breath and holding my right knee, I simply said "no, no, I needed the exercise."

I should have spit in her hair.

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned in 7 Hours of Traffic

For those of you blessed enough to live outside of the Beltway, you officially NEVER have the right to complain about your traffic conditions EVER again. No exceptions. No appeals will be heard on this topic. DC Metro area traffic is, hands down, the worst ever in the world. I don't care what anyone says.

Sitting completely still on I-95 for nearly 7 hours (technically 6.5) gives you lots of time to reflect and explore yourself and those around you. Before I give you my little list of observations I have come up with as a result of Hell Tuesday, let me give those of you unaware of the situation some background.

On Tuesday, the day of the Potomac Primary (Chesapeake Primary depending on what channel you are watching), at approximately 3:00 pm it started to sleet in Washington DC and the outlying areas. Considering we live in an area that gets traffic reports that announce "sunshine delays," it is NO real surprise that traffic was going to be heavy. People are already stupid when they get behind the wheel of a car, and adding bad weather multiplies that ridiculously. So at 3:30 pm, I rushed out of my office to meet my ride outside (bypassing the bathroom and snack machine), and we were on the interstate by 3:40 pm. Traffic moved slowly for about 4 miles, and then it started to REALLY slow down. It wasn't until people around us started to put their cars in park and turn off the engines that we realized we were going to be sitting for a little while.

We sat unsuspectingly, oblivious to the traffic realities around us. The traffic reports that repeat every 10 minutes on the "8s",and were completely and totally useless. People started to get out of their cars and walk around in the sleet after about an hour. It became clear to me and my fellow sluggers at the 2 hour mark that we were screwed. We all suspected that there was an idiot convention ahead of us that was causing all the emergency vehicles to go racing by us.

Apparently, the braintrust at VDOT decided to SHUT DOWN I-95 South and block the entire southbound commute out of Washington DC because it was getting icy. Yes, SHUT DOWN.

So, I sat trapped in the car for almost 7 hours trying to get home to vote in the presidential primary. In case you didn't figure it out, I didn't make it. Nobody made it. So for those of you OUTSIDE of the Potomac Primary region, don't believe the election results. The employed, thoughtful voters who wanted to vote for their candidate were prevented from doing so by a well-crafted, well-timed conspiracy between God and VDOT.

Without making you wait any longer, here are some slugging survival tips that I have devised as a result of my hell ride.

10. Always eat a snack just before leaving work. If you aren't hungry, at least make sure you have mints or gum in your purse or pocket. Slightly chewy lint starts to look good after about 4 hours.

9. Charge your cell phones and Blackberries while you are at work. It is guaranteed that on the day you have to sit in traffic and make a million phone calls your cell phone will start to die.

8. Bring a change of clothes. Again, guaranteed that you will be stuck in hell wearing control top pantyhose.

7. Grab a bottle of water to go. Even if you aren't thirsty, it might come in handy for number 6.

6. Always, always make a trip to the bathroom before leaving work. Even if you "just went," give it a try. Every trickle counts when you are sitting in traffic for 7 hours. In case you were in a hurry to meet your ride, consider a water bottle. :)

5. Don't accept a ride from someone unless you know you can sit trapped in a car with them for more than the typical hour-hour and a half.

4. Make sure you have at least one friend in the world who will IM with you for several hours checking the primary results and sending you jokes to break up the monotony.

3. Always work on less sleep than you need. It will be the ONE day that you actually got enough sleep to sustain you that you will get stuck in a car for that long. On most days, I am begging for the chance to sleep. I could have had an entire night's sleep on Tuesday before I ever got home.

2. Bring something with you that could double as a pillow.

1. Learn some buttcheek exercises. Sitting on your butt for that long without moving will lead to numb-butt syndrome which could lead to a very unpleasant olfactory experience for those around you.

In all seriousness, the number 1 thing I learned that is THE most important is that you absolutely MUST have someone who does not live or work in DC that would be willing to pick up your child from school when you can't. If it weren't for my very good friend, God only knows what would have happened to my child that night! I wasn't reunited with my child until 10:30 pm!