Camie and I watched the first episode of The Biggest Loser together, and so we thought it would be fun to get together last night and watch the finale. Did you watch it? All season long this show has been bringing me to tears as I watch all of these huge dudes cry and tell each other how they are the wind beneath each others wings. It's totally motivational, and I was excited to watch it with Camie. No one likes to cry alone. The Pope, however, had other plans.
His Popeness is in Washington DC right now, as you might know if you (unlike me) pause between flipping between E!, TLC, and Bravo long enough to see the news. Whenever there is any event such as this, roads are usually closed, and if roads are closed you can bet your 401K that traffic is going to suuuuuuuuuck.
My little 3 mile commute from Bethesda to Silver Spring took a grueling 55 minutes. Camie, coming to my house from DC, really didn't stand a chance.
She called at 7PM and said, "I've been on the Parkway for 45 minutes and I'm only at the CIA exit. I'm turning around."
I nodded into the phone as I calculated how far the CIA exit is from where she'd need to get onto the Beltway. And from there, it was likely that if the Parkway was a mess, the Beltway would look like a CarMaxx parking lot. At this rate she'd be getting to my house at about 11PM.
"Oh yeah!" I said, "Definitely go back home. There's no way you're getting here tonight."
"Sorry!" she said.
"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault! You totally got Pope Slapped!"
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Silver Lining
We've been getting a bit of weather here in the DC Metropolitan area. I, for one, am pleased to see some rain. It's sad to look out of my lofty windows onto what should normally be a sea of bright yellow and red fall foliage, only to see dusty brown lawns and crinkly beige trees. So if a little rain will turn those lawns green and perk up the color, I say, Rain On, little rain cloud, Rain On.
However, rain does have negative side effects. It is common knowledge that if any precipitation threatens to land on any asphalt anywhere within a 50 mile radius of the White House everyone immediately forgets how to drive their car in a normal and orderly fashion. Consequently, when it rains you can count on sitting in gridlock traffic for, oh, several hours at least.
As a bus rider, I face an interesting dilemma when it rains. I can either get wet by walking to the bus stop, but then have the luxury of doing whatever I want as we inch through the traffic. Or I can choose to drive myself and stay dry, but be really bored as we inch through the traffic. It can be a tough call. But I'm here to tell you, sitting next to 40 wet, smelly people (you may not know this, but much like dogs, when people get wet they tend to smell ... some worse than others) while inching through traffic is really something you have to be mentally prepared to do -- even if you have an arsenal of podcasts, newspapers, and scented hankies at your fingertips. If you haven't girded your loins you are better off facing the traffic on your own and forgoing the entertainment.
Yesterday my loins were not girded. So even though I KNEW the traffic was going to be horrendous, I opted to drive. And I wasn't disappointed. We were moving so slowly I had time to read, and I mean REALLY READ, an entire magazine during the commute. It isn't everyday that I get to have the best of both commuting worlds: entertainment AND privacy. Of course it also isn't everyday that it takes me an hour to drive 3.5 miles. (Thank heaven for that!)
I want to remember this event in a positive light, because I can't say that I've ever done any significant reading while driving. I'm an avid reader, as you know, but I've never considered it to be something I could do while driving. This appears to be a whole new venue! My brother in law told me that he used to read western novels while driving across Wyoming, which at the time I thought was completely AMAZING. And completely DANGEROUS. Like Are-You-Totally-Insane-Man? dangerous. Even if Wyoming is a dusty, uninspiring, ugly, oil refinery wasteland, you still shouldn't be reading a book while trying to drive 80 miles an hour. That's just crazy, man.
But now that I've done it going 3 mph, I can see the appeal. This is the next X sport, people! EXTREME READING!! Just start taking a bunch of steroids and rocket around the desert in a convertible while reading James Joyce. Before you know it Sal Masekela will be interviewing you at the X Games.
However, rain does have negative side effects. It is common knowledge that if any precipitation threatens to land on any asphalt anywhere within a 50 mile radius of the White House everyone immediately forgets how to drive their car in a normal and orderly fashion. Consequently, when it rains you can count on sitting in gridlock traffic for, oh, several hours at least.
As a bus rider, I face an interesting dilemma when it rains. I can either get wet by walking to the bus stop, but then have the luxury of doing whatever I want as we inch through the traffic. Or I can choose to drive myself and stay dry, but be really bored as we inch through the traffic. It can be a tough call. But I'm here to tell you, sitting next to 40 wet, smelly people (you may not know this, but much like dogs, when people get wet they tend to smell ... some worse than others) while inching through traffic is really something you have to be mentally prepared to do -- even if you have an arsenal of podcasts, newspapers, and scented hankies at your fingertips. If you haven't girded your loins you are better off facing the traffic on your own and forgoing the entertainment.
Yesterday my loins were not girded. So even though I KNEW the traffic was going to be horrendous, I opted to drive. And I wasn't disappointed. We were moving so slowly I had time to read, and I mean REALLY READ, an entire magazine during the commute. It isn't everyday that I get to have the best of both commuting worlds: entertainment AND privacy. Of course it also isn't everyday that it takes me an hour to drive 3.5 miles. (Thank heaven for that!)
I want to remember this event in a positive light, because I can't say that I've ever done any significant reading while driving. I'm an avid reader, as you know, but I've never considered it to be something I could do while driving. This appears to be a whole new venue! My brother in law told me that he used to read western novels while driving across Wyoming, which at the time I thought was completely AMAZING. And completely DANGEROUS. Like Are-You-Totally-Insane-Man? dangerous. Even if Wyoming is a dusty, uninspiring, ugly, oil refinery wasteland, you still shouldn't be reading a book while trying to drive 80 miles an hour. That's just crazy, man.
But now that I've done it going 3 mph, I can see the appeal. This is the next X sport, people! EXTREME READING!! Just start taking a bunch of steroids and rocket around the desert in a convertible while reading James Joyce. Before you know it Sal Masekela will be interviewing you at the X Games.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Karma Police
You remember when the firestorm of crappiness hit, right? Well, today was court day. I'd vowed to turn this most obnoxious event into something tolerable by sandwiching it between some fun activities. You know, turning Lemons into Lemonade and whatnot. This was the plan:
As with most things in my life, this adventure didn't go quite as I'd hoped.
I had expected the book signing to be PACKED with little girls - and I was right. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten about the propensity little girls have for screaming. I walked into Borders and heard a shouting match at the back of the store: "EDWARD!!" "JACOB!!" "EDWARD!!" "JACOB!!" (FYI, these are the two hunky heros of Eclipse.) This went on for about 5 minutes, until they started shouting "STE-PHE-NIE! STE-PHE-NIE!" When Ste-phe-nie finally made her appearance more screaming (of course) ensued, but this time in a Beatle-mania-throw-your-panties kind of way. Oh, and did I mention that they were also climbing the bookshelves? Because they were. I'm seriously rethinking my desire to ever have a child, since there's a 50-50 chance it could grow up to be a teenage girl.
Already with the tinges of a headache, all of the screaming and loud-girl-chatter made it start to intensify. I toyed with leaving, but after a certain number of hours dedicated to an activity you sort of feel like you just have to see it through to the end. So I waited in line until my number, 916, was called. It was all fairly anti-climactic, as I knew it would be. But I'm chalking it up to life experience. And it was pretty cool to meet Stephenie, a published author, if only for .6 seconds.
When I got into the car to go to Camie's I realized just how fierce my headache had grown. I seemed completely incapable of logical thought. Camie lives on US 50. The Borders I was at is ON US 50 ... but instead of just driving down it, I somehow got myself turned around and onto a completely different highway, with absolutely no idea of where I was going. I had to call and have her guide me in.
By the time I limped into her apartment, my head was REALLY raging. So I spent my fun girl sleepover puking and laying on the bathroom rug. I am a charming house guest.
Today, Court Day, I arrived at the courthouse without incident. But I was sweating bullets the entire 35 minutes I sat there watching other people get their verdicts. The judge was a bit harsh and VERY few people got off with nothing. Most had to go to driving school and I really didn't want to go to driving school. So when the judge called my name I gulped and said "Here, your honor." He asked for the officer. No answer - Glory be, Hallelujah! - he wasn't there! So the judge just said, "No witness, you're free to go." And boy did I go.
With the taste of freedom fresh in my mouth I set out to shop til I dropped. But my plan to shop around wasn't as much fun as I'd hoped. Most of the stores weren't opened, and I wasn't really in the mood to shop, anyway. Which is really weird for me. I decided that I'd prefer to go back to Borders and keep reading the book that I'd started while waiting during the book signing. So I reformulated my plan for the day and headed off.
Just when it became too late to fix my error, I realized that I'd planned my driving route all wrong and I was going in the exact opposite direction that I should have been going. Once again, I had to remind myself that today was all about making Lemons into Lemonade so I should just enjoy the drive along the river, usually one of my favorites. No sooner had I thought this, then I went around a corner right into a speed trap ... where, you guessed it, I GOT A TICKET!
Two MEASLY hours after leaving court, I had a brand-spankin-new ticket to my name. The long arm of the law will not be so easily avoided it seems.
And you know what? Next time I'm taking those lemons and using them as a garnish on a tankard of Absolut Lemonade.
- Go to Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse Book Signing on Thursday night
- Stay the night at Camie's in VA to make getting to Alexandria by 9:30 possible.
- Go to court with an iron-clad defense; get off scott-free
- Spend the day shopping the quaint boutiques of Alexandria
- Lunch glamorously at a bistro
As with most things in my life, this adventure didn't go quite as I'd hoped.
I had expected the book signing to be PACKED with little girls - and I was right. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten about the propensity little girls have for screaming. I walked into Borders and heard a shouting match at the back of the store: "EDWARD!!" "JACOB!!" "EDWARD!!" "JACOB!!" (FYI, these are the two hunky heros of Eclipse.) This went on for about 5 minutes, until they started shouting "STE-PHE-NIE! STE-PHE-NIE!" When Ste-phe-nie finally made her appearance more screaming (of course) ensued, but this time in a Beatle-mania-throw-your-panties kind of way. Oh, and did I mention that they were also climbing the bookshelves? Because they were. I'm seriously rethinking my desire to ever have a child, since there's a 50-50 chance it could grow up to be a teenage girl.
Already with the tinges of a headache, all of the screaming and loud-girl-chatter made it start to intensify. I toyed with leaving, but after a certain number of hours dedicated to an activity you sort of feel like you just have to see it through to the end. So I waited in line until my number, 916, was called. It was all fairly anti-climactic, as I knew it would be. But I'm chalking it up to life experience. And it was pretty cool to meet Stephenie, a published author, if only for .6 seconds.
When I got into the car to go to Camie's I realized just how fierce my headache had grown. I seemed completely incapable of logical thought. Camie lives on US 50. The Borders I was at is ON US 50 ... but instead of just driving down it, I somehow got myself turned around and onto a completely different highway, with absolutely no idea of where I was going. I had to call and have her guide me in.
By the time I limped into her apartment, my head was REALLY raging. So I spent my fun girl sleepover puking and laying on the bathroom rug. I am a charming house guest.
Today, Court Day, I arrived at the courthouse without incident. But I was sweating bullets the entire 35 minutes I sat there watching other people get their verdicts. The judge was a bit harsh and VERY few people got off with nothing. Most had to go to driving school and I really didn't want to go to driving school. So when the judge called my name I gulped and said "Here, your honor." He asked for the officer. No answer - Glory be, Hallelujah! - he wasn't there! So the judge just said, "No witness, you're free to go." And boy did I go.
With the taste of freedom fresh in my mouth I set out to shop til I dropped. But my plan to shop around wasn't as much fun as I'd hoped. Most of the stores weren't opened, and I wasn't really in the mood to shop, anyway. Which is really weird for me. I decided that I'd prefer to go back to Borders and keep reading the book that I'd started while waiting during the book signing. So I reformulated my plan for the day and headed off.
Just when it became too late to fix my error, I realized that I'd planned my driving route all wrong and I was going in the exact opposite direction that I should have been going. Once again, I had to remind myself that today was all about making Lemons into Lemonade so I should just enjoy the drive along the river, usually one of my favorites. No sooner had I thought this, then I went around a corner right into a speed trap ... where, you guessed it, I GOT A TICKET!
Two MEASLY hours after leaving court, I had a brand-spankin-new ticket to my name. The long arm of the law will not be so easily avoided it seems.
And you know what? Next time I'm taking those lemons and using them as a garnish on a tankard of Absolut Lemonade.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Take Your Toolbox Out of Your Car, Just in Case
I have to drive this route almost everyday if I want to get anywhere valuable.
Seems pleasant enough, right? Let's look at it more realistically:
Welcome to Bonifant Street. The Evil Super Villian of Silver Spring. If you venture down it, be prepared for nothing to make sense anymore. Goodbye Farfegnugen. Forget what you learned in Driver's Ed. It will only confuse and anger you. On Bonifant, your only goal is to get out of there as soon as you can, and in one piece.
As the Evil Super Villian of Silver Spring, Bonifant's main power is a crippling Mind Suck. I've seen it a million times. A car turns purposefully onto Bonifant, only to slow confusedly to a stop. The driver then looks around frantically like, "WTF am I going to do NOW?" Then one of two things will happen. They'll either double park. I call it "double parking", but usually that term entails making some effort toward getting near the first row of parked cars. Here it's more like stopping in the middle of the lane, turning the car off, getting out, and then stumbling around in the middle of the street. The second option is for them to roll down the window, hold out their hand to stop any traffic, and make a U-turn. This is best done with a cell phone pinned to the ear. As an Evil Super Villian, Bonifant is indeed powerful.
To me it seems like a pretty straightforward street. No funny signs or one ways or anything. Just drive straight, avoid a couple of potholes, and that's about all there is to it. So I'm not quite sure what the problem is, but my excellent sleuthing skills have caused me to deduce that the global moronification has something to do with a lack of parking. (FYI, I'm pretty much a genius at figuring out what other people's problems are.)
I've often thought about posting about the ridiculous driving and parking behavior on Bonifant, but poor driving is so common here that it really didn't seem worth it.
Until, Edward Banya decided to take the problems on Bonifant into his own hands. His own civilly disobedient, hand tool wielding hands.
Apparently, Banya grew tired of waiting for someone to pull out of their parking space. So he got out of his car and proceeded to help them out by stabbing them repeatedly with a screwdriver in the hand and torso. (No word on if the screwdriver was a Phillips or Flathead). The other driver wasn't seriously injured, but that didn't stop the ENTIRE Silver Spring Police force from coming and closing the street down for four hours. [When I walked by 2 hours after the incident, there were still 10 police cars and a whole lotta standing around. Of course I rushed home to write out a big fat tax check to support their efforts.]
Now, I don't want to be seen as condoning violence. That's not me at all. In a Fight or Flight scenario all you're going to be seeing of me is my receding silhouette running away from you as fast as I can. But some part of me is giving Banya a high five. Who among us hasn't wanted to throttle an idiot driver? I certainly have. And parkers on Bonifant Street have achieved an extra special level of DUMB.
Frankly, something had to be done about it. I'm not really sure it needed to involve hand tools. But perhaps it did.
Perhaps it did.
Seems pleasant enough, right? Let's look at it more realistically:
Welcome to Bonifant Street. The Evil Super Villian of Silver Spring. If you venture down it, be prepared for nothing to make sense anymore. Goodbye Farfegnugen. Forget what you learned in Driver's Ed. It will only confuse and anger you. On Bonifant, your only goal is to get out of there as soon as you can, and in one piece.
As the Evil Super Villian of Silver Spring, Bonifant's main power is a crippling Mind Suck. I've seen it a million times. A car turns purposefully onto Bonifant, only to slow confusedly to a stop. The driver then looks around frantically like, "WTF am I going to do NOW?" Then one of two things will happen. They'll either double park. I call it "double parking", but usually that term entails making some effort toward getting near the first row of parked cars. Here it's more like stopping in the middle of the lane, turning the car off, getting out, and then stumbling around in the middle of the street. The second option is for them to roll down the window, hold out their hand to stop any traffic, and make a U-turn. This is best done with a cell phone pinned to the ear. As an Evil Super Villian, Bonifant is indeed powerful.
To me it seems like a pretty straightforward street. No funny signs or one ways or anything. Just drive straight, avoid a couple of potholes, and that's about all there is to it. So I'm not quite sure what the problem is, but my excellent sleuthing skills have caused me to deduce that the global moronification has something to do with a lack of parking. (FYI, I'm pretty much a genius at figuring out what other people's problems are.)
I've often thought about posting about the ridiculous driving and parking behavior on Bonifant, but poor driving is so common here that it really didn't seem worth it.
Until, Edward Banya decided to take the problems on Bonifant into his own hands. His own civilly disobedient, hand tool wielding hands.
Apparently, Banya grew tired of waiting for someone to pull out of their parking space. So he got out of his car and proceeded to help them out by stabbing them repeatedly with a screwdriver in the hand and torso. (No word on if the screwdriver was a Phillips or Flathead). The other driver wasn't seriously injured, but that didn't stop the ENTIRE Silver Spring Police force from coming and closing the street down for four hours. [When I walked by 2 hours after the incident, there were still 10 police cars and a whole lotta standing around. Of course I rushed home to write out a big fat tax check to support their efforts.]
Now, I don't want to be seen as condoning violence. That's not me at all. In a Fight or Flight scenario all you're going to be seeing of me is my receding silhouette running away from you as fast as I can. But some part of me is giving Banya a high five. Who among us hasn't wanted to throttle an idiot driver? I certainly have. And parkers on Bonifant Street have achieved an extra special level of DUMB.
Frankly, something had to be done about it. I'm not really sure it needed to involve hand tools. But perhaps it did.
Perhaps it did.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Universe 867, Me 0
There are times when things are going along just swimmingly, and there are times when you step in the proverbial Cow Pat of Life. This week is nothing short of Craptastic.
A few examples, for your consideration:
Last Saturday I went to a Luau in an effort to get my flirt on. Things were going pretty well, until the helium balloons blew into the chocolate fondue fountain. (Yeah, it was that kind of party). Wanting to be helpful while cleaning up the mess I suggested just popping the balloons so they A) wouldn't blow into the chocolate again, and B) no one would run into them and get all chocolaty. So The Hostess held the balloons and I popped them - thereby splattering her white shorts with chocolate. I left promptly.
Later that evening I was meeting other friends in Old Town Alexandria, VA. It's a quaint and charming city, but one that is practically impossible for the novice to navigate what with all of the One Ways, No Turns, Do Not Enters, and such. I've known for years that VA is a nightmare to navigate. And so I should have known better than to venture into virgin territory. At night. I was practically asking for trouble. And I got what I (apparently) deserved: A ticket for making a left turn where there was supposedly a "No Turns" sign. I fully admit that there are times when I deserve to be ticketed. This was absolutely NOT one of those times. To add insult to injury I have to go to COURT to take care of it. That will be a fantastic day in my life, I'm sure.
On Monday, after a day of feeling grumpy, and hating any activity that was keeping me from curling up into a ball under my covers, I decided I should go to the gym and get some endorphins pumpin. So I drove to the gym and waited patiently for this moron to master backing out of their parking space. When they'd finally managed it, this little snot-nosed punk sped in from the other direction and took it, a la Fried Green Tomatoes. I didn't ram his car screaming that I'm older and have more insurance ... but I did scream, "Oh, YOU LITTLE SH*T!" and glared at him really really fiercely. He didn't care.
After the gym I felt a little bit better. I went to go find a Great Harvest Bread Store so I could have some bread for sandwiches (I'm picky about my bread, what can I say). I knew it was on Rockville Pike, but there are about 45 shopping centers up and down the Pike, and I wasn't quite sure which one had the Great Harvest store. So I drove in and out of them for 25 minutes, before finally finding it. Of course, it was closed.
At work on Tuesday I remembered that I'm interested in taking a writing class at the Writers Center in Bethesda. The website was down, so I said, hey it's only a couple of blocks from my office, I'll just walk down there (in the sweltering heat while wearing high heels) and get myself a catalog. Surprise, surprise! It was closed. Despite it being right smack dab in the middle of their advertised office hours.
Crossing a crosswalk (against the light, I'll admit), I see a car flying down the street. When I saw it I said, "So THAT is what a Bat out of Hell actually looks like!" Fast. Dark. And seriously bloodthirsty. This car had to be going 50 miles an hour through downtown Bethesda. It started honking about 1/2 block before it got to the intersection to let us know that it was NOT STOPPING. Nor would "slowing" be on the agenda. It was move, or be moved (presumably by her bumper). I was practically to the curb, so I wasn't as concerned about my life as I was about the 4 people who were behind me. I looked back to make sure they wouldn't be flattened into road pancakes when the driver flipped me off, pointed very POINTEDLY at her green light, flipped me off again, and continued to honk all the way through the intersection.
Today, I drove to work because I had an orthodontic appointment in the morning, and I was running late. A massive traffic jam only made me later. My normal parking lot upped it's price from $5 a day to $10 a day. I opted to park in a metered lot instead. But there weren't any "extended time" metered spots in any of the SEVEN parking lots I checked. So I've been running down to feed the 2 hour meter all day long. And now, just two hours before I am due to leave I went to go fill it for the final time. And I had a ticket.
I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I can tell when the Universe is trying to get me. So you can quit now, Universe. I get it. You hate me. How about I just take a mental health day, stay out of everyone's way, and we call it even? That work for you?
A few examples, for your consideration:
Last Saturday I went to a Luau in an effort to get my flirt on. Things were going pretty well, until the helium balloons blew into the chocolate fondue fountain. (Yeah, it was that kind of party). Wanting to be helpful while cleaning up the mess I suggested just popping the balloons so they A) wouldn't blow into the chocolate again, and B) no one would run into them and get all chocolaty. So The Hostess held the balloons and I popped them - thereby splattering her white shorts with chocolate. I left promptly.
Later that evening I was meeting other friends in Old Town Alexandria, VA. It's a quaint and charming city, but one that is practically impossible for the novice to navigate what with all of the One Ways, No Turns, Do Not Enters, and such. I've known for years that VA is a nightmare to navigate. And so I should have known better than to venture into virgin territory. At night. I was practically asking for trouble. And I got what I (apparently) deserved: A ticket for making a left turn where there was supposedly a "No Turns" sign. I fully admit that there are times when I deserve to be ticketed. This was absolutely NOT one of those times. To add insult to injury I have to go to COURT to take care of it. That will be a fantastic day in my life, I'm sure.
On Monday, after a day of feeling grumpy, and hating any activity that was keeping me from curling up into a ball under my covers, I decided I should go to the gym and get some endorphins pumpin. So I drove to the gym and waited patiently for this moron to master backing out of their parking space. When they'd finally managed it, this little snot-nosed punk sped in from the other direction and took it, a la Fried Green Tomatoes. I didn't ram his car screaming that I'm older and have more insurance ... but I did scream, "Oh, YOU LITTLE SH*T!" and glared at him really really fiercely. He didn't care.
After the gym I felt a little bit better. I went to go find a Great Harvest Bread Store so I could have some bread for sandwiches (I'm picky about my bread, what can I say). I knew it was on Rockville Pike, but there are about 45 shopping centers up and down the Pike, and I wasn't quite sure which one had the Great Harvest store. So I drove in and out of them for 25 minutes, before finally finding it. Of course, it was closed.
At work on Tuesday I remembered that I'm interested in taking a writing class at the Writers Center in Bethesda. The website was down, so I said, hey it's only a couple of blocks from my office, I'll just walk down there (in the sweltering heat while wearing high heels) and get myself a catalog. Surprise, surprise! It was closed. Despite it being right smack dab in the middle of their advertised office hours.
Crossing a crosswalk (against the light, I'll admit), I see a car flying down the street. When I saw it I said, "So THAT is what a Bat out of Hell actually looks like!" Fast. Dark. And seriously bloodthirsty. This car had to be going 50 miles an hour through downtown Bethesda. It started honking about 1/2 block before it got to the intersection to let us know that it was NOT STOPPING. Nor would "slowing" be on the agenda. It was move, or be moved (presumably by her bumper). I was practically to the curb, so I wasn't as concerned about my life as I was about the 4 people who were behind me. I looked back to make sure they wouldn't be flattened into road pancakes when the driver flipped me off, pointed very POINTEDLY at her green light, flipped me off again, and continued to honk all the way through the intersection.
Today, I drove to work because I had an orthodontic appointment in the morning, and I was running late. A massive traffic jam only made me later. My normal parking lot upped it's price from $5 a day to $10 a day. I opted to park in a metered lot instead. But there weren't any "extended time" metered spots in any of the SEVEN parking lots I checked. So I've been running down to feed the 2 hour meter all day long. And now, just two hours before I am due to leave I went to go fill it for the final time. And I had a ticket.
I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I can tell when the Universe is trying to get me. So you can quit now, Universe. I get it. You hate me. How about I just take a mental health day, stay out of everyone's way, and we call it even? That work for you?
Friday, June 22, 2007
MINI(ature) Love
I've been commuting all week to a Product Manager Training Seminar in Reston, Virginia. MapQuest and I agree that it should only take about 35 minutes to go from my house in Silver Spring to the seminar hotel in Reston. Not too bad. Of course, that only applies to the morning commute, the return trip, on the other hand is a disaster. That half-hour trip goes a lot slower when your car doesn't get out of first gear.
At about the point where my road rage was really starting to percolate, I encountered my arch nemesis the DC Taxi driver. I won't digress into a scathing discourse on why taxis are the bane of my existence -- but in case you didn't get the Taxi Manifesto in which it states that the laws of the land do not apply to taxis, let me do my bit to help the revolution by letting you know that any taxi, at any time, can do whatever the hell it wants, without respect to any of the other cars or pedestrians within a five mile radius. I don't want you accidentally thinking that these fellows are outside the bounds of proper driving etiquette. Hah! The very idea!
Anyway, two hours into my drive this jackass taxi decided it was a perfect time to cut across four lanes of traffic in order to make a left turn. While he was blocking all of us, a little red MINI snuck out from a side street and got in front of me. I got pimped! and I hate getting pimped. It was only The Code of the MINI that kept me from being truly incensed.
The Code of the MINI is one of my favorite things about owning a MINI. Owning a MINI is like being in a secret society, such as the Skull and Bones (but without the naked butt paddling or the political intrigue). MINI owners are encouraged to always wave or smile knowingly at each other in passing. We've all promised to never eat at chain restaurants, to call driving "motoring", and name our first child Cooper. It's impossible to hate another MINI owner.
And so, I pulled up next to the red MINI and gave him a look that said, "You're a cheeky fellow! Good thing The Code has protected you. Now, let's see what features you have on your car." MINIs are the only cars I know anything about, so I feel very manly when I can look at one and say, "I can't be-lieve you chose those rims! Those were the worst ones!" or "Interesting use of the luggage rack, my friend!"
While I was checking out his car (Chili Red, white top, no bonnet stripes - poor choice there) I noticed that the driver was a bit of a dish. Lanky, sandy blond hair, glasses, driving a MINI - just my type. Hmmmm.....
Would Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes like British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes? If they got married, with their red and green MINIs parked outside of their swanky townhouse, would the neighbors call them The MINIs, instead of The Johnsons? Would their curio cabinets be full of model MINIs and English car memorabilia? When the first child came, would he in fact be named Cooper? And more importantly, as more children came, whose car would go from MINI to Minivan? Gulp. Certainly not British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes.
How could Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes even think of asking British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes to sacrifice herself so completely when everything she ever does is for the sake of this family? If he thinks that she's going to be seen driving around town in a minivan, well he's got another thing coming Mister! Besides, if one of our cars has to go - it will be yours, Mr. NO Bonnet Stripes!
At this point Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes escapes by turning left abruptly.
British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes rolls her eyes and mutters, "It's a damn good thing you're covered by The Code and I can't hate you." And motors off to finish the last leg of one hellishly long and emotionally charged commute home.
At about the point where my road rage was really starting to percolate, I encountered my arch nemesis the DC Taxi driver. I won't digress into a scathing discourse on why taxis are the bane of my existence -- but in case you didn't get the Taxi Manifesto in which it states that the laws of the land do not apply to taxis, let me do my bit to help the revolution by letting you know that any taxi, at any time, can do whatever the hell it wants, without respect to any of the other cars or pedestrians within a five mile radius. I don't want you accidentally thinking that these fellows are outside the bounds of proper driving etiquette. Hah! The very idea!
Anyway, two hours into my drive this jackass taxi decided it was a perfect time to cut across four lanes of traffic in order to make a left turn. While he was blocking all of us, a little red MINI snuck out from a side street and got in front of me. I got pimped! and I hate getting pimped. It was only The Code of the MINI that kept me from being truly incensed.
The Code of the MINI is one of my favorite things about owning a MINI. Owning a MINI is like being in a secret society, such as the Skull and Bones (but without the naked butt paddling or the political intrigue). MINI owners are encouraged to always wave or smile knowingly at each other in passing. We've all promised to never eat at chain restaurants, to call driving "motoring", and name our first child Cooper. It's impossible to hate another MINI owner.
And so, I pulled up next to the red MINI and gave him a look that said, "You're a cheeky fellow! Good thing The Code has protected you. Now, let's see what features you have on your car." MINIs are the only cars I know anything about, so I feel very manly when I can look at one and say, "I can't be-lieve you chose those rims! Those were the worst ones!" or "Interesting use of the luggage rack, my friend!"
While I was checking out his car (Chili Red, white top, no bonnet stripes - poor choice there) I noticed that the driver was a bit of a dish. Lanky, sandy blond hair, glasses, driving a MINI - just my type. Hmmmm.....
Would Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes like British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes? If they got married, with their red and green MINIs parked outside of their swanky townhouse, would the neighbors call them The MINIs, instead of The Johnsons? Would their curio cabinets be full of model MINIs and English car memorabilia? When the first child came, would he in fact be named Cooper? And more importantly, as more children came, whose car would go from MINI to Minivan? Gulp. Certainly not British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes.
How could Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes even think of asking British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes to sacrifice herself so completely when everything she ever does is for the sake of this family? If he thinks that she's going to be seen driving around town in a minivan, well he's got another thing coming Mister! Besides, if one of our cars has to go - it will be yours, Mr. NO Bonnet Stripes!
At this point Chili Red/No Bonnet Stripes escapes by turning left abruptly.
British Racing Green/White Bonnet Stripes rolls her eyes and mutters, "It's a damn good thing you're covered by The Code and I can't hate you." And motors off to finish the last leg of one hellishly long and emotionally charged commute home.
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