Killer Commute

Every morning I wake up to the same routine in my house.  Let the dogs out, get in the shower, blow dry my hair, lotion the legs, put on my make up, pack the lunch, feed the dogs, grab the breakfast, out the door.  Its simple, its precise, its predictable, and its quiet.  And we all know that I desperately need my quiet in the mornings.

But something happens when I get in my car.  Tension.  Stress.  Anxiety.  Anticipation.  I’m like a high school wrestler right before a match.  Why, you ask?

Because I’m a commuter.

I don’t quite understand the psychosis behind what happens on the road between 7:50 and 8:15 AM, but it is quite amazing really.  People go insane.  Really.  Insane.  They bob and weave, they tap their breaks, they drive slow in the fast lane, they don’t signal their lane changes.  Why is it that during commuting hours, all laws of traffic go out the freaking window?

And how about those morons who go flying 90 miles an hour through stand still traffic?  Where do they think they’re going?  You cut me off so that you can stop immediately in front of me?  Let me give you a hint:  There’s no finish line when you’re driving to work, people.  And that’s the other thing.  You’re driving to WORK.  What is the hurry?

Just for kicks this week, the state police have decided to start pile ups on I-95 by staging police cars every few exits.  They don’t do anything.  They don’t even have lights on their cars.  But they sit there to freak people out.  You know who that freaks out?  ME!  That’s right, because I’m the one who almost slams into those idiots who see a police car and immediately slam on breaks, whether they are speeding or not.  Every morning I come around the same corner, and there is the same cop car, and traffic instantly slams to a stop.  Its the transit equivalent of the phone ringing during sex.

By the time I get to work, my serene morning has been shot in the foot.  I walk in the door just proud to have made it to work.  Usually I have spilled my breakfast on me at some point, I am running late because someone cut me off and made me miss my traffic light, so I’m hauling it in heels.  Clothes flying.  Hair crazy.  Lunch squished.  It is never pleasant.  But at least I survived.  Its a minor morning miracle.

So today, I send out a message to all who commute northbound on I-95, Monday through Friday, 7:50 – 8:15 AM, Exits 32 to 4.   Please use your blinkers.  Be selective with your breaks.  Stay in your lane.  Ignore the police.  And, for the love of God, WEAR YOUR SEAT BELTS!!  Its a jungle out there!



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3 responses to “Killer Commute

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  2. Dave

    I find this article particularly amusing. I ask myself all these same questions everytime I ride with you. Your perception of the “other drivers” is hilarious considering you are the queen of “bob and weave”. I usually wear dark glasses when I ride with you so I can close my eyes until we arrive.


    Hush your mouth!

  3. Those people have the “Optional Blinker” package in their cars.