I was all set with what I was going to write for the blog this week. It was a good one, too. I’ll have to save it for a later date, though. Because after my commute home from work on Monday, I feel like I need to dedicate a post to that.
Like I said in my first post, my commute to and from work is terrible. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy (you know who you are). But I do it because I have to. I usually try (and fail) to keep the complaining to a minimum.
I have a lot of stories about the terrible drivers I’ve encountered, the accidents I’ve seen (and thankfully have never been a part of), and other weird things. Monday’s commute was a particularly weird one.
Before I go on, I feel like you should know that my car is named Delilah. I don’t want you to think that I carpool to work with any crazy broads who cut off dudes’ hair or whatever.
So on Monday I was running about 15 minutes late, which actually makes a big difference when it comes to traffic, surprisingly. Traffic was pretty bad, so I was just rocking out to my music, nothing too exciting. I did notice a weird smell, but it’s New Jersey; there’s always a weird smell. I was anxious to get home because I was hungry, but I knew I had to make a stop at the library to get something notarized first. I was in a rush but there was nothing I could really do about it.
Then suddenly something giant and yellow caught my eye, just as traffic started to pick up. Of course, my first reaction was “what the hell?” Then I realized, very happily, that it was actually the giant Despicable Me minion blimp that Rachel had told me was flying around New Jersey. I was so excited I almost crashed into the car in front of me. Then I dug my hand into my bag, which was sitting open on the passenger seat, to look for my phone. I managed to find it, knocking my bag over upside down onto the floor. I then proceeded to attempt to take a picture of the blimp (which moves faster than you would think) as traffic suddenly sped up, to where I was driving about 60 mph. I quickly decided getting a picture wasn’t really worth a fiery death.
Of course as soon as the blimp was out of view, traffic slowed down considerably so I was driving about 25 mph, and could have feasibly actually taken a picture. I guess if there’s one thing we can learn from all this it’s that it’s probably not worth it to risk your life to take a picture of what could really only be described as a giant yellow boner (that’s a bit of an in-joke for my fellow bloggers. Sorry for the vulgarity.)
At this point I was at about Exit 135 on the Parkway. I get off at 129 (or 123, depending on my mood), so I still had a ways to go. The rest of the ride on the parkway went by with little to no excitement. At some point I realized that the weird smell was actually coming from inside of Delilah, not the usual wondrous Jersey stench. I eventually figured out that it smelled because I had had a soccer game the day before in the pouring rain and had left my wet socks in the backseat for a couple hours while I volunteered at the park’s concession stand. I’m the worst.
But the smell left my thoughts when I got off at my exit, and promptly almost got run over by a truck that was attempting to change lanes. Into my lane. Where I was driving. With my car. Vroom vroom.
Interestingly, earlier that day I had been working on a site for a law firm in California that represents people who have been injured in semi-truck accidents. Apparently there are almost 300,000 large truck accidents in the U.S. every year. The more you know.
This is what ran through my head in the 5 seconds I had to react:
- Big red truck!
- Stop it, red truck.
- Save us, Delilah!
- You don’t want the last song you ever hear to be “Our Song” by Taylor Swift.
- Honk. Brake.
- Why do you know all the words to this song?
- Not today, red truck. Not today.
I did not get into an accident with that truck or anyone else (Seriously, knock on wood. I hope I’m not jinxing myself…I’m actually a pretty safe driver.)
Finally I got off the highway, but I still had to go to the library. At this point, I was starving and also full of adrenaline from almost getting run over. I almost drove right past the entrance to the library, but I managed to not miss the turn.
The paper I had to get notarized was a bit crumpled from when I knocked my bag over, but it still worked. And it warmed my soul that the library was so packed with little kids getting books. My soul went back to its usual lukewarm state when the notary told me that she couldn’t help me if I wasn’t 18. She seemed very confused when I told her I’m actually 23. I know I look young, but come on. Not even 18? Please.
While I never got my picture of the minion blimp, I did manage to make it home safe and sound, with a notarized document, a Taylor Swift song stuck in my head, and an uncrashed car. All in all, it was a great success.