Friday, October 15, 2010

All Aboard! The Trip to Crazy Town Begins...

So here's the thing, *normally* I'm not crazy. Well, I mean if I am it's more FUN crazy than scary-stalk-you-in-the-bushes-with-a-knife crazy. It's the little differences that count, after all.

But sometimes? Sometimes, I stash Rational Sammo in a mental closet, duct tape the door shut and head to Crazy Town on an express train. A bullet train. Whatever those really really FAST trains are that they have in Japan and that they'll probably never build here, even though it'd be way more fun to get stuck at a bullet train crossing than at a regular one. And it's sort of a win, because bullet trains are SO FAST, you can't just be a hobo and ride them, and you can't cover them in weird graffiti that I can't decipher. Can anyone else figure out what those things are saying? No? Okay.

Yesterday I had to make an appointment downtown, which had *already* involved overcoming obstacles - like finding a sitter last minute because otherwise I'd have a hefty broken appointment fee. That was annoying enough, so naturally I was determined to make my appointment on time. I have to take 465 to get there, affectionately known 'round here as "The Loop" - because, uh, it's a big circle people. And by "affectionately" I mean, we have no road alternatives, really.

And 465 is one of those roads where you hit the pedal on the right, white-knuckle your steering wheel and hope for the best. Prayers are optional, but recommended.

Your Favorite Writer had already gotten stuck behind a Nimrod in a silver SUV, after the Nimrod decided to use her "magical turn signal powers" - which is when someone assumes that a signal means you have the time, ability or inclination to let them in. And when you don't, they almost side-swipe your fancy Bitchy German Luxury Car.
Or my BGLC, as it were.

So then I was all "oh I'm getting past this crazy beotch" and all, AND I had a huge truck bearing down on my bumper, so foot to the floor, I started making some lane changes, knowing my exit was coming up fast. Then suddenly, I realized I had to merge NOW, and who should be in front of me? That's right. Moron SUV. And then she did something that you never do on a highway like 465. She hit her brakes, hard.

Your Favorite Writer had two choices: eat silver SUV bumper and get shoved accordion style into a car pile thanks to the Silverado on MY bumper, or cut lanes and risk becoming that bed in the Enter Sandman video. (Hint: the bed gets demolished by a semi truck.) Choices, choices. I hit the gas, swerved two lanes and lived to fight another day.

And that, friends, THAT is when I locked normal rational Sammo in a foot locker and hopped on the bullet train -destination Crazy Town, population Uno. I could see the silver SUV lady to my left and I hit the gas in my exit lane so we were parallel. I had my window down, and I was yelling like a maniac, cursing, gesturing (we'll let you fill in the blanks) and I even included the ONLY SPANISH PHRASE I KNOW. Which involves suggestions about yo' momma. The other lady driver would look over and look away; probably what I would do with a rabid looking person screaming at me to "bring it" - which frankly, what would I do if it were, uh, brought?

Verbal assassin!

The besty-bestiest part? My appointment? Was my therapist. Bwhahahaaaaa! Because *that* makes it complete.

And don't worry, Rational Sammo is back at the helm. Our trip to Crazy Town is now complete, please watch your step as you disembark.

Comments, questions, when was your last trip to Crazy Town?

0 comments: