During today's morning commute, I wrote a rollicking fantastic blog post in my head and now.... nothing. Somewhere amidst road rage and microscopes, caffeination and tests I completely forgot was it was. It was no Pulitzer but still... I need a voice recorder or something.
Except then I'd just say "Do I really sound like that?" every single time I played my recordings back.
I figure the topic probably had something to do with driving in a parking lot or nearly getting smeared by the SAME semi-truck 3 times but we'll have to wait for it to come back to me, probably at 2 am next Tuesday.
It's okay though because the commute HOME gave me plenty of material. If you were not one of the 19.8 gazillion drivers on the road in StL today, you really missed out. The KMOV traffic app just said stay.the.hell.home.
No I made that up.
But that is what they meant.
As I was deadlocked, I found myself next to the loudest thug-life bass blasting car EVER. There is only one thing worse than being stuck next to 'that guy' and that is being stuck next to ba-ba-boom boooooom boom rattle rattle boom boooooom with screaming recently awoken children and an attitude that makes you go all mama bear out the window.
Luckily my kids weren't with me but I probably would've been that person.
It was bad enough because I just couldn't shake him. He or I would gain a few car lengths and then ba-ba-booooom. Damnit!!!
In a rare bass-free moment of clarity I thought about how I was in the makings of another post and that this one was not escaping so I started to write some stuff down. I was not moving very often so I took out a piece of paper and was leaning on the steering wheel writing when suddenly some asshole starts HONKING at me and I get all defensive. What the hell?! We aren't moving- I can't freaking go you dumb-ass and then I realize that I am the asshole. I was honking at myself.
Let me give you a second.
Yep. ME. I was apparently a little excited about recording my new blog post idea, writing furiously enough to lay on my horn. And then doing like any other sane person would do, I pretended it wasn't me.
Looking back I should have just went with it and really owned the honk- threw my arms up and shouted "Let's go already you frakking St. Lunatics (thanks Nelly)!" or at least honked to the bass beat next to me. Maybe next time.
So by now you are probably thinking I'm all cursing like a sailor over here to which I would respond. You are damned right! Commuting in that kind of ridiculous traffic makes me CRAZY. I release the inner trucker in me and it helps. When my kids aren't with me, all bets are off. And really it doesn't matter what I scream because it's just gonna get drowned out by the ba-ba-boom boom next door.
Post Script: As this was written yesterday, you may in fact be perfectly fine on the roadways today. Keep on truckin' commuters and stay out of my way lest you want to be honked at.
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