Infinite Menus, Copyright 2006, OpenCube Inc. All Rights Reserved.
LAUGHING MATTERS: Pains, Tums and Automobiles
by Sharon May
Apr 08, 2010 | 1460 views | 0 0 comments | 9 9 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Have you noticed that on the mornings when you're running late, Fate decides to be a grouch?

It happened again recently when I was charging to work with no time to spare. Already, I had turned into a raccoon when I sneezed while applying mascara. That was after I spent precious minutes replacing the bathroom light bulb. I could only find a 25-watt porch light, and then I opened the stepladder in the wrong direction and whacked my shin with the steps.

It was that kind of morning. And now I had crabby Fate leading the way.

As I turned from my neighborhood, I almost plowed into a humongous diesel pickup slowly pulling a trailer topped with a four-story yellow farm machine. By “slowly,” imagine a desert tortoise with sprained ankles.

I looked at the dashboard clock and shrieked incentives. But the gargantuan load filled the entire roadway, and I couldn’t see past it to determine if it was safe to pass. So I crept behind it, steamy expletives fogging my windows.

When the truck finally lumbered into a turn, I raced ahead, trying to make up lost time. That lasted until I saw the nose of a police car peeking from behind a pyramid of dirt in an empty lot. I swallowed back stomach acid and slowed down to the posted limit, one eye on the clock.

Then I came to the highway and a red light. I groaned. Now I would get the red at each of the six traffic lights before the Interstate. I told sniggering Fate to buckle up because we were going to make the next green light.

The light turned and I shot away, a blue blur – until I saw the white pickup at the curb a block ahead. Fate laughed as I slowed to precisely 4.5 mph over the posted speed limit and held it there until the cop was a safe dot in my rear-view mirror. I spurred the ponies under my hood, and barreled forward.

But Fate had other plans. This time, a school bus wallowed into my path as the lanes merged into one going onto the highway. How ironic, I griped: Late to school because of a school bus!

Sure enough, the bus driver took the curve at a geriatric 40 mph, my car chomping at the rear. By the time the bus accomplished highway speed, another three minutes had elapsed. Now, I had just seven minutes to eat up 12 miles of Interstate and another three miles to the parking lot. I passed the bus and floored it to 80.

Two miles later – I’m not kidding – brake lights signaled cars slowing ahead, and I screamed “NOOOOOO!” My stomach churned as we inched past the scene of a rollover. “C’mon, c’mon, just drive!” I screamed helpfully to the spectators ahead.

One would think these obstacles enough satisfaction for Fate that morning. But I have two words to add: The Roundabout. The one that’s been unpaved for approximately four years.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up late to work last week.

Why I crunched through half a jar of Tums during first period. And why I gave that killer pop quiz.

It was Fate.

Comments
(0)
Comments-icon Post a Comment
No Comments Yet
Postings are not edited and are the responsibility of the author. You agree not to post comments that are abusive, threatening or obscene. Postings may be removed at the discretion of davisclipper.com
Follow us on: