Traffic is stopped, again. It is
always stopped on Monday morning; other mornings, too. But not like
Monday. Right at the merge where the state road intersects with the
interstate --- sometimes at other places for no apparent reason. I take another sip
of coffee. I can feel my pulse rate quicken -- just for a moment,
though. It slows a bit as I look to my right.
A very pretty girl in
a fairly new compact import edges up next to me me. Pretty girls
have always been able to calm this morning beast that is me. Her short
brown hair is styled in a wave look. She wears a nice scarf, maybe a
little too much make-up. No, then again, maybe not. Its hard to tell.
Both our windows are dirty.
She is smiling and
laughing. As she catches me looking at her we make eye contact. Her look
causes me to smile. She laughs and holds up the letter she is reading,
waving it with great excitement at me as her smile grows broader.
I’m not sure. Now,
did her sister just have twins? Is her college roommate and best friend
getting married? No, I know what it is! I’ve seen this look
before. Her boyfriend is coming to visit. He loves her! He said so --
in the letter. I smile and salute her with my pink-lettered coffee cup.
She gives me a thumbs up as her lane of cars moves ahead of mine.
I take another sip of
coffee. Mmmm good. I needed that. I hate traffic!
The girl is only one.
She is one of the cast of characters that are a part of my life this
morning as I sit here stuck in Monday morning traffic. Daybreak is a few
minutes away. We all play this snail game of stop and go. And, as
always, we all seemed to have adapted to this ritual we find ourselves
enduring way too many mornings.
At least most of
us have.
A woman in a big blue
Buick battleship pushes from lane to lane, adding to the misery of this
congested highway. I don’t understand how one or two car lengths can
mean anything on this Monday Madness Morning, alliteration
notwithstanding!
She apparently thinks
so, though.
She pounds the
steering wheel!
She beeps her horn!
She makes a complete
and utter ass of herself.
More than a few people
salute her and tell her she is number one when she bulldozes her way
ahead of them.
The days of standard
hours are long gone in today’s work world. I pull up next to a man in
a new luxury car. He talks on his cell phone as he writes notes on a
little note pad that hangs from some convoluted contraption stuck on his
windshield. I shake my head and take another sip of coffee.
Several other people
also talk on their cell phones. Time just won’t wait. Business must go
on, even when you’re stuck in traffic. People check their watches.
Some edge their cars slowly to the left to see if they can spot why
traffic is slow. Others turn on their internal auto pilot and just stare
blankly ahead.
The eye in the sky
traffic report tells us what we already know. This commute stinks! I
grimace with pain when I hear about the alternate routes I could take.
Where was this information about 30 minutes ago when I got in my car!
People drink coffee,
read the paper, and fiddle with other contraptions in the car. One guy,
an obviously experience commuter, shaves. I’m sure somewhere in this
morning madness someone is brushing her teeth.
Some college age kids
have the radio up disturbing any one who thought about using these
moments for some quiet time. I smile as a remember when I had the radio
blaring. Some people, smart enough to car pool, pass the time talking
about the day’s events. They smile and laugh as they share a joke.
I’ve done this
routine for many years. I don’t get excited over it and do not worry
about being a few minutes late for work. I am on salary after all and
don’t need to punch the clock, though, I would like to punch out the
lady in the blue Buick battleship as she pushes her way in front of me!
My coffee is almost gone. She is lucky. She could have been wearing it.
The pretty girl with
the letter waves to me as she gets off her exit. I wave back and mouth
to her, "have a good day!" The man on the phone hangs up.
Traffic starts to move a little faster. The other guy finishes shaving.
I take my last sip of coffee. Some big exhales from my fellow commuter
rats as we all get to take our feet off the break.
I push the station
search button on my radio. Traffic is now moving at 25 miles an hour as
we head around a bend. The sun pushes up over the horizon behind me
shining in my rear view mirror. I flip it to night-time so as not to be
blinded.
The station search
stops on the "oldies" station. Oliver is singing "Good
Morning Starshine." (Yes, this is true! I may be a writer with
some imagination, but, do you really think I would make this up and
write it down, and expect you to believe it!?!) Traffic has
broken free. It’s going to be a great day (in spite of that repugnant
lady in the blue Buick battleship).
Hey, Good Morning!
|
