As I sit here, staring at a blank text box… I have no idea where this post is going to go, so I hope y’all aren’t looking for Pulitzer material out of me today. I’m on my lunch break at work and avoiding my accounting homework like the plague, so the way I see it… you’re all helping me procrastinate. Thanks for that, assholes.
Ohh! I got it. I’ll regale you all with the tale of one of my more recent (and by recent, I mean January or February) trips to Baltimore and how the universe plotted against me the whole way there.
I had off on a rare Sunday, so I figured why the hell shouldn’t I head down to Charm City to see some friends and drink some beers and have a Sunday Funday like everyone else in the world (you know, the ones that don’t work retail and have their lives run by shitty hours)? Baltimore is roughly a 1.5-2hr drive from the burbs of Philly where I reside, so this trip should’ve been a piece of cake, right? Wrong.
I woke up late, having snoozed through my alarm roughly 137 times (hyperbole is my favorite) and rushed to get showered and dressed and ready. I called Lauren, my BFF that I rarely ever get to see (miss you, smooches!) and let her know I was off to a slow start. After getting perfectly coiffed and made up and ready to roll, I headed out the front door, excited to begin the day’s adventure. Caffeine addict that I am, I decided to stop for coffee on the way. I hit I-95 south, and was on my merry way. As I drove along, I went to grab my coffee and take a sip. Like a dumb ass, I grabbed it from the top, and the next thing you know, I had hot coffee all over my lap. Fucking awesome. In pain and soaking wet, I pulled off the closest exit, which happened to dump me in the lovely city of Chester (note my sarcasm when I say lovely). I hit the nearest surface street, pull over, and jump out of my car, flailing around because I’m covered in coffee and that shit was HOT. What I did not notice was the group of guys sitting out on the front stoop across the street from where I was doing my third-degree burn dance.
“Hey white girl… you ok?” is the phrase that pulled me out of my flailing, and I sheepishly told the very large man looking at me like I’d lost my mind what had happened. Turns out, his name was Jamal, and he was sympathetic to my plight. He offered me a towel, which I graciously accepted, and a shower, which I politely declined. Showering in the homes of strangers isn’t something I make a habit of – that’s how bitches end up as a plot on Criminal Minds. Once I was sufficiently dried off, I had a decision to make. Drive to Baltimore covered in coffee and buy pants once I got to town, or take the 20min trip back home and change. Erring on the side of frugality, I headed home. I got back to my house in record time, a woman on a mission. I parked my car out front, and went to run inside to change. I didn’t make it halfway up the front walk when I felt something hit my head. SPLAT! A bird took the nastiest shit ever, and it landed directly in my hair. That’s right, after spilling coffee all over myself, I got shit on by a bird whose diet must consist only of purple, sticky berries.
I went inside, determined to make it to Baltimore by the end of the day, and showered, having to wash my hair THREE times to get the bird crap out of it. THREE TIMES. Ridiculous. I headed out the door and hit the road once again, this time opting to stop at 7-11 for a Rockstar, since coffee clearly wasn’t in the cards anymore. I made it down 95 and 495 without incident, and was content to rock out on my way down, keeping my speed probably somewhere around 80-85mph (don’t judge me). I was hell bent on making it to Baltimore before noon. Anyone that is familiar with where route 495 dumps back onto 95 in Christiana can vouch for me that this piece of road is terrible. People forget how to merge, and it’s basically just a huge clusterfuck. Changing lanes is like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun sometimes, and I have literally never experienced this stretch of highway without uttering something along the lines of “goddamnfuckingDelawaredriverswhatthefuckareyoudoingIhateyougetthefuckoutofmywaybeforeIrunyouoffthegoddamnroad” (road rage may or may not be an issue for me). Anyway, I guess I had forgotten to mention that it had recently snowed. Right.
As I navigated amongst the Delwarians trying to figure out what MERGE means, I got stuck behind a tractor trailer, which large trucks on either side of me. Fantastic. I quickly realized the truck in front of me hadn’t bothered to clear the top of his trailer before getting on the road, and there was a rather large amount of snow hanging on precariously to the top of the trailer. It took me all of three seconds to realize this shit was about to shake loose and head my way, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it. Sure enough, AVALANCHE!! The windshield of my car was assaulted by what I figure was 2 tons of snow, and lost visibility for a minute. All I could do was white-knuckle the steering wheel, keep it steady, turn my wipers on, and pray. I narrowly avoided disaster.
I ended up making it to Balitmore just shy of my 12pm goal, and was met at the bar by friends and beer… all’s well that ends well, I guess. I figure I’m a trooper for continuing on when all signs pointed to keeping my ass in Philadelphia for the day. Dedication, friends, that’s what that is. The end.
I warned you all that this wouldn’t be my best material, so… yeah. Just another day in the life, right?
xoxo
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