If there’s one thing that I’ve realized over the past two weeks at my new job, it’s how drastic of a misnomer the phrase “Rush Hour Traffic” is.
There’s no rushing. No one is going fast, or doing anything fast for that matter. Stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I can sometimes feel myself age. And I’m pretty sure I felt my beard grow the other day while sitting in the parking lot that was Rt. 128.
Sitting in traffic is one of the worst facets of working life. It’s like watching paint dry. Actually... no. It’s worse. It’s like listening to paint dry.
In case you missed my first entry, I’m not exactly accustomed to the road congestion that comes along with working full-time. This past Friday was just my ninth day at the beauteous desk job that God himself has fortunately granted me.
My commute to and from work each morning and afternoon is a tad over an hour in each direction. In the words of Sweet Brown, ain’t nobody got time for dat.
In short, this means that I can never get those 18 hours of my life back.
On the bright side, a lot can happen in 18 hours and these commutes have not all been mindless driving. Here’s a breakdown of how I spend my time in the car:
Now that I’ve supplied you with this handy guide to my daily, car-related activities, I think it would be easiest if I simply provided you with a sampling of my stream of consciousness.
- Ahh okay here we go, getting in the car, turning the key, rolling down the driveway, and... I just ran over a... was that a dead squirrel? Well if he were alive before I ran him over, he deserved to be dead; I was going like 5 miles per hour. Either way, he’s definitely dead now.
- Let’s put some tunes on here. It’s too early in the morning to feel hipster, just give me something I already know, radio. Yes, Maroon 5. WHY? Why do I always find “Love Somebody” right when it’s ending?!
- Whoa that guy was morbidly obese.
- Okay, KISS 108, always a safe music bet. I have no idea what Matty looks like. Between that raspy, phlegm-filled voice and his knowledge of modern culture, he could be anywhere between 30 and 70.
- I just went around this rotary three times... Time to get off this thing.
- Oh geez, horribly unsuccessful job of merging. Ooooh that man is LIVID. I think he’s saying he wants “fudgicles.”
- I don’t understand why people forget how to drive when it starts raining. Your car is not going to flip over if you eclipse the 20 mile per hour mark. I am embarrassed to be a member of this species.
- Speaking of embarrassment, this radio show right now is very subpar. This sportscaster is mixing up names of Bruins players and relaying completely false stats to the people. This is an insult to anyone who follows hockey. I’d rather listen to Tim McCarver call a baseball game. Actually... cue the Family Guy clip.
- I do not, and never will, understand the need or use for the heaps of makeup that girls put on their face. That being said, the fact that this woman is doing so at speeds of over 60 mph is frightening.
This is where my self-dialogue usually trails off as I focus on containing my bladder for the remaining 15-20 minutes of my commute. In the chaos that is the morning, using the bathroom always seems to be the thing that gets cut out when I attempt to arrive at work on time. Dashing into work, Anna looks up and sees me heading towards the bathroom and lets a smirk escape from the depths of her soul.
God, that woman irritates me.
This blog and all of its previous entries have been completely satirical in their intent. All names have been changed, but to be honest - half of the people you've come to know and love were completely made up. Also, much of my content was made up to entertain you wonderful readers because, let's be honest, who wants to read about me actually doing work at work.