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Road Rage Revisited (Yay Alliteration!)
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Road Rage Revisited (Yay Alliteration!) Been away, will be away, am posting much. For those that pay attention to the mood thingy, that should be 'surprisingly cheerful' It's been an odd couple of days for me and my car. Yesterdays little adventure started with the depositing of my paycheck. Since I'm working through a temp agency, I can't get direct deposit. Yay. So I get to stay up late on thursdays just so I can have my check post before saturday. Anywho, I'm coming out the door when I get hailed by a man in the parking lot. He was there to get a check cashed at the check cashing place in the same plaza, and they were closed. So I get asked if I can drive him and his wife over to stefko blvd to get their check cashed so they can get their car from the garage it's at. I agree, since I have nothing better to do, and this situation wasn't scary enough to impinge on what little self-preservation instinct I have left. The catch came when trying to fit people into the vehicle. Not only do I stuff my car full of junk as I wander around (yes, it's a rolling garbage can/filing cabinet/toy box/vanity combination), but the back seat is currently home to something like 200 pounds of vacuum pump (don't ask1), which makes it somewhat difficult to fit people back there. So this guy puts the seat back as far as it can go and his wife sits on his lap, and then attempts to pull the safety belt around them both. Although Hondas are surprisingly roomy on teh inside, the engineers seem to have failed to include enough seat belt to wrap around two decent sized people. Go figure. So I'm starting down the road and he starts telling his wife about some with a gun he ran across the other day, how said youngster was flashing it and making "I ain't no " noises, and how he was probably out to make a reputation. Now I get a tad scared. After that he was just some regular middle-aged guy in need of a ride, so I calmed down. Went and got the check cashed, and he asks if I can drive them over to hellertown (about 5, maybe 10, minutes from where we were). I'm still okay with this, and commence to drive him over in search of the location of his car. After a few tries at likely spots, we find a pay phone, he calls for further directions, and I drop him off, refusing payment the whole time. I screw up my good karma now by saying gee gosh I must have gotten a bunch of good karma for that. Sleep for a while. Get to work a bit earlier than I have been. This is good. Do work stuff. Eat breakfast on first break. Do more work stuff. Decide "Gee, I wanna go to the supermarket rather than the Wawa for lunch". Ask coworker for directions. Get warned not to use her directions by someone else. Didn't listen. So I set out in search of the supermarket. It's pretty simple, left right left. Three turns. Only I hear "first left", rather than the more illuminating "go through the stop sign and then the first left". Spot a dead raccon on way there(#1). I ended up on side street, figuring I was going to wander in the back of the shopping plaza. I can see large buildings and sodium vapor lamps. Yay! Road gets weird, there are signs for municipal complexes. I get stranged out and turn around in a driveway, retrace my steps to the stop sign and go ahead on my merry way. See the giant, see what may be an entry way. Decide against, not willing to fall for that trap again. notice headlights behind me, feel faint stirrings of unhappiness. Go around corner at a light, used clearly posted entrance. While cornering, notice police department paint on side of car. Shit. Car follows me into lot. Double shit. Lights go on, I am officially fucked. Get the usual license, registration, "Just what the fuck are you doing boy?" routine. Police ossifer asks about the aforementioned pump. Much running of plates and license ensues. Buddy ossifer shows up and spens several minutes looking in my rear passenger window at pump. Possibly drooling, I have a feeling he's a mouthbreather, but I just do not want to turn and look. I'm pretty serious about the whole "hands where the police officer can see them, be docile" thing after getting a gun pulled on another stop2, so I am unwilling to turn around and make eye contact. To make the whole 'good ol boy' image even worse, the officer talking to me has a big old wad of chaw in his cheek and keeps spitting on the parking lot. Poor parking lot never spit on him. Turns out people have been stealing things from a construction site (new firehouse) near where I was all confuzzled. So here I am, at 3:30 in the morning, driving like an idiot, with a piece of industrial equipment in the back of my car. Yay. Got some food, got back to work just in time to go back to work. Spot another dead raccoon(#2) Managed to have a cup of tea and some tiger's milk bars while running machine. Am as content as I'm going to be. Do my work thing. Head home. Deal with the horror what is the morning commute on route 22. For some reason, almost nobody in PA or NJ (I'm near the border, and going home I'm in a pile of jerseyites headed the same way) can actually operate an onramp. The people on the ramps dawdle down and try to merge at ten miles an hour. The people on the highway on their brakes, make many uneccessary lane changes, and generally act like idiots. After making it off 22 and almost all the way into southside bethlehem on 378 (dead raccon on the way. #3), I'm approaching the last onramp before the bridge into southside. Somebody is coming down onramp. Making good time, actually doing it right. I applaud from my vantage point in the left hand lane, only to have my joy cut short as some bitch in the right hand lane, who will never be anywhere near the onramp person, cuts in front of me and slams on her brakes. Then she drops immediately back into the righthand lane. I make jokes about getting my license out of a box of cracker jacks, but wow, this woman rode a very short bus to school. So short it was going backwards, methinks. Pass the bitch, get in front, and slow down to appropriate speed for bridge crossing, at which point said idiot crawls up my ass. *sigh* Manage to make it home and start ranting on here. There is some good news, though: I got to MEPACon today! Yay! 3 days of glorious gamery immersion! Yay! I have an actual hotel reservation so I can hang out the whole damn time! Yay! I'll be in beautiful Scranton, the town they built on top of the landfill! Not so yay! Some parts of Scranton are pretty damn nice. I hope I'll be in one of those. Also good: found out there's a string of concerts I want to see at one of the local excuses for night clubs. I was making fun of my workplace for giving me the night before Thanksgiving day off, rather than the night that involves me being stuffed full of food and all sleepy, but it opens me up for the pre-thanksgiving Emily's Toybox show . So is a good thing. The weekend after that, Alien Ant Farm is going to be in the same venue, and I think there's even something good the saturday after that. For those who haven't been to an ETB show and have the chance, I recommend. They're a great live act. Especially all the sing along bits. There's a reason for the t-shirts that say "My dick smells like chapstick", which is fun to hear screamed by the female half of a packed bar/dancefloor. Also, their 'new' bassist (not original, but he's been around a while) can sing "I'm Sailing Away" in the Cartmann voice. Scorecard: Police stops: 1 Police officers not mentioning my old insurance card: 1 Dead raccons: 3 Lunch breaks wasted: 1 Previously useless holiday days turning out good: 1 Potential nifty concerts: 3 Stupid bitches on road: Near infinity. Stupid bitches in my way: 1 Days spent geeking out: 3 Overall score: Kinda good Mood Music- "Road Rage" - Emily's Toybox 1. The vacuum pump is destined to become the heart of a vacuu-former. It may also be transformed into the world's most powerful penis pump, should there be a record up for grabs. Be afraid as I faint due to all my blood being sucked out through my phallus. Or laugh. I'd laugh, myself. 2. A friend and I were going to work one day. On a one way street, we had to make an annoying turn that was half blind due to Allentownians being incapable of parking their vans anywhere but right at the intersection. Large vehicle with very bright lights is coming up teh one way street the wrong way, across the intersection from us. My bud tries to flash them through, wave them through, to no avail. Flips them off as he pulls out. Turns out it's a paddywagon (my apologies to any Irish-American readers who take umbrage. Deal.). Police ossifers come to visit. First words out of anyone's mouth are "How would you like me to rip that finger off and shove it up your ass?". Goes downhill from there. Moral of the story: always get a badge number at the scene, cause the desk seargant is gonna play stupid when you phone in a complaint. |
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