Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In
About ten years ago, the president of my company decided to move us from our ramshackle office space into an actual office building, being constructed just for us.
In a SWAMP.
It sank into the swamp! So he built another one! That one burned, fell down, and sank into the swamp! (Enough Python, sorry. It never sank, it never burned. BUT, since it’s in a swamp, and the construction guys were obviously high, the floors have buckled. The concrete floors. The IT department has an ‘uphill’ and a ‘downhill’. Trim is skewed. And the water fountain smells like the farm across the street. Yeah. Nice.)
The swamp is right by a railroad track. A busy railroad track. Located just south of two other busy railroad tracks. Morning commutes are sometimes peppered with 15, 20-minutes waits for one, two, THREE frickin’ slow-movin’ freight trains. You can always recognize the poor unfortunate souls who happened to encounter multiple trains on any given morning. They’re the ones with empty coffee cups and pointed sticks, plotting to descend on the train station.
This morning I was cruising to work, southbound, crossed the two north tracks, and started over the third track near my office. I noticed northbound traffic was backed up, due to a train I’d just missed. (Hooray!)
The northbound folks were not in a jolly mood, nosirree bob. Even though they’d only had to contend with ONE stinkin’ train. They’d drunk all their coffee and were sharpening their sticks. And they were bitchy.
I had to turn left, cross both left and right northbound lanes, to get to the parking lot at work. My blinker was on. The car behind me had their blinker on (my friend K). Those pissed-off train-delayed folks would NOT LET US GO. They kept bumper-to-bumper like they were frogs a-humpin’ in Spring. I sat there a good five hours (okay, maybe 10 minutes, really), as they crept forward, being all “no cuts!” and pretending they didn’t see me. They were moving, the light was green, but they took out their commute anger on us.
Let me cross!
I hafta get to work!
Put down that gun!
Finally, FINALLY, the woman in the left lane stopped. I inched forward. The woman in the right lane stopped. I sped through, into the parking lot, and gave them a ‘thanks’ wave.
My friend K drove in after me. I saw her inside.
K: Can you believe the traffic out there?
Me: No, man, that was insane!
K: Know what I did when they finally let us through?
Me: No, what?
K: I smiled and waved and yelled, “Thanks, Bitches!”
I’m gonna try that next time.
Update: After posting this blog, I clicked on Blogger's "Blogs of Note" for today (Tuesday), called "The Boy Who Heard Music". It's Pete Townshend! FAAAACK! Sweet, sweet nirvana!