Travelling to work – a travel writing tale

The alarm sounds at 7:20. Why does it always hurt so much to get out of these covers! It’s freezing out there and my eyelids are heavier than the championship weight lifted by a championship weightlifter. It’s not always this hard. I love Saturday mornings. Of course, I get about 2 extra hours of sleep and, oh yes, I don’t have to drag myself to a desk where I’ll sit for hours under the watch of the careful eye of suspicious and jealous boss. Ah, the morning. Some find it so crisp and refreshing.

I get in the hot shower and find a moment of pleasure in this whole dreaded daily ritual. It’s so warm in here. I’m in the womb again. I was two weeks late so I feel it’s very natural to like to take things slow and sleep in. The heat washes over me. My glasses are off and my contacts still sit in the case. It’s a rare moment of complete isolation. It’s funny how much we rely on our sense of sight. I see the mirror clock my husband has installed in this heavenly realm. I’m 10 minutes behind schedule. The blood rushes to the brain and I’m done with my dreaming until tonight. I long for the night.

The next bit of time consists of an intermixing of needed morning activity and clock glancing. Brush, 7:50, makeup, 7:53, dressed, 7:58, change pants – too short, 8:00! I feed the dog doing the doggy dance off don’t get your yellow fur on these black pants and then I’m out. I’m a phantom.

I’m getting really great at multitasking. Too good I think. I don’t like having my attention split in every direction. I’d much prefer getting drenched in a book for a whole afternoon. But, while I must do it, I must do it well so I start the car, drink my OJ, plug in my ipod and defrost the windows all at once. Now I’m off to the races and I feel like I’ve already been around 10 laps.

Granted defrosting was more difficult in Virginia but oh how the memory fades. Now it’s game of getting the right windows down to see how to turn and keeping the wrong ones up to prevent freezing. My frogger has made it down Stoner Ave and caught the green on Gateway. A couple of honks while merging left starts off an LA day just right. Why did I label my car with a cross that reads Peace. I really want to wave a finger now. The fight to the freeway is over and I’m on. Not moving but on.

I merge 84 lanes in 5 seconds to avoid the dead stop cars getting off downtown. I get around the lawless truck expelling gallons of toxic fumes straight away into my face via vent. I’m cranking now. I slowly merge back over so the 84 lanes can merge into 1 to get onto the 101 which again becomes 84…downhill as well. Such a game of chance and wit in the morning is a bit tedious. NPR calms the nerves but sleepy time is also a side effect so I crank the AC for a second until my nipples are hard and now I’m on the 101 – oh glory!

Let me over damn it. Such a common phrase in the commuter vernacular and yet we we are in the position to “let” we never do. What is this contest. Do we all really want to get to work that bad? Sometimes I hope for an accident, a traffic jam, a breakown, an alien attack – whateve I can use as a viable excuse. Mind you my work could be much worse but that’s not my mindset now and besides all work is boring. It’s just too much of the same thing. Anything that’s fun done everyday will lose it’s luster. We should share jobs. We should change every hour like school. Why do they train us like that when we’re young just to leave us at desks to wither and die?! I work in television – there is no hope for me. This is supposed to be exciting work!

Now, I’m getting close. The daydreaming – it helps get you through. I arrive early. Sometimes this means naptime but today I’ve convinced myself they’ll notice my diligence if I pop in a bit before on time. They never do but it makes me feel studious. I’m in. I make a list of what I will do to keep my mind of what I have to do whether I feel like running, driving, screaming or anything else. I’m in. It’s locked. I’ll make the best of it until I get out and fight for home again. Precious home. It’s an island refuge from this consistent chaos. The bed waits for me there. Always warm and comforting and open to whatever dreams I can dream up.