This World Is Full Of People Who Look A Lot Like Gavin McLeod
It must have been summer, because it was still very bright when I got out of work that Friday. Three seasons of the year, people tend to trudge out of work. Summertime -- no jacket to put on, throw your work bag in the back, roll down the windows, and hit the road. It's not even so much the destination as the departure, and the journey. What great reward awaits me at the end of my drive home ... feeding the cats? No, even in the days when I took public transportation, the first five or ten minutes out of work on a Friday afternoon are exhilarating to the psyche - even if you're just driving to the dentist. I've never liked the whole concept of putting in your 5 so you can enjoy the weekend - it seems to miss the point - but I can't deny pre-weekend euphoria.
Until it all stops. And that's no joke on the Bronx River - if you slam on your brakes, you're liable to wind up with someone's front end in your backseat next to your workbag. Traffic is never good on the BRP on Fridays, but halfway home this day, it just stopped. No visible accident, no cops, just Dee-troit rolling iron as far as the eye could see (which was about 50 feet).
My first car was a 1982 Chevy Cavalier that would overheat if it was more than ... say, 40 degrees out, and I had more than my share of being parked on the side of the road with the hood up, pretending to know what to do as steam (or smoke) billowed out. It left deep scars on my automotive psyche, despite the fact that my current car monitors everything but my rectal temperature. Anyway, air conditioning off, windows and sunroof open, AM radio preset #4 (1010 WINS New York All News All The Time). Traffic and Transit on the Ones: Nothing. Put the CD back in. Guy next to me looked over and made an exasperated sort of gesture at the traffic. I pretended to be equally put out. Truth was, it was a fine day, I had my favorite song playing, it was kind of nice to just sit for a while. I'm an adult and I can do what I like, so I replayed the song when it finished. And I replayed it a third time. As it turned out, traffic started moving after half an hour, and truth be told, I can't even remember if I found out what the jam was. People always drive faster after a traffic slowdown or stoppage - it's part frustration, part wanting to make up for lost time - you see it on the Jersey Turnpike a lot. People drive out of congestion like they're fleeing the fall of Saigon. That day, I didn't.
“Well I'm half awake half a world away
All my past mistakes and every wasted day
I wouldn't have it any other way”