Yesterday I was supposed to meet Steve for lunch at Cracker Barrel in Wilkes-Barre, at 12:30. And I got absorbed into one of the worst traffic clusterfucks I’ve ever encountered during my long, undistinguished life. This screenshot from my phone tells part of the story. As you can see, it’s 1:15 when I grabbed it — a full 45 minutes after I was supposed to be there. And the Barrel was a mere 2.4 miles from where I was sitting, but still a 27-minute journey!
I was losing it, man. I was boxed in on all sides by tractor trailers, and some unknown claustrophobia was starting to bubble up. Ya know? I felt trapped, was agitated about being so late, and moving toward a full freakout. But I was able to maintain, somehow.
I ordered my lunch over the phone, with Steve acting as the intermediary between me and the waitress. I wanted him to just hand her the phone, but he played the delicious home cookin’ middleman. And, thankfully, it didn’t take a full 27 minutes to get there. It probably took between 15 and 20, and they were bringing our food out as I angrily entered the scene.
So, we had a rushed lunch. Grrr… I still needed to arrive at work at a reasonable time. It certainly wouldn’t be my scheduled start time of 2, but I had a management meeting at 3, and definitely needed to arrive before then. So, we were rifling down our meals and didn’t get to talk as much as I’d hoped. It was highly unsatisfying, the whole experience.
But Steve had made a purchase of the West Virginia craft beer I love — Devil Anse IPA — and I paid him for that and we made the transfer from his trunk to mine. Plus, he gave me a can of a “black IPA” made by the same company. It’s called Mothman. I’ll be testing that one out on Saturday. Oh yeah.
So, at least I got a shitload of fantastic, not-available-in-Pennsylvania beer out of the deal. Steve didn’t get much, unfortunately. He just hung around a Cracker Barrel for half the day, waiting on my husky ass to arrive. I feel kinda bad about that.
And by the way, I thought I’d get fancy with it and take backroads to work from there. But they were all messed up too. I arrived at the 3 o’clock meeting about 10 minutes late. I mean, this traffic jam — created by road construction I heard — was absolutely BIBLICAL in nature. In fact, the cashier at the restaurant asked if I was traveling southbound. When I told her I was, she said, “Don’t do it. Just go home.” I wanted to call my boss and tell her that Betty at the Barrel advised me not to report for work today but suspected the company wouldn’t recognize Betty’s authority.
I don’t really have a question, I guess you guys can report on the worst traffic jams you’ve encountered. I’ve talked about one in California years ago, when people were out of their cars cooking burgers on grills and passing Frisbee, etc. Toney was about to snap during that one. It was horrific. What do you have on this subject, anything? Use the comments section.
And before I call it a day here, I’ll link to the Thursday episode of the podcast, right here. It’s definitely the weirdest one so far. I had several topics I wanted to discuss in it. But one awkward subject dominated. The title: If I Want To Wear Chinese Underwear, That’s My Business! And here’s the description:
This is a weird one, be forewarned! I discuss, at length, the underwear crisis I experienced about five years ago, and my ongoing struggle in the “underwear realm.” And near the end, I tell you about the Whistle Dick of the Week, who I encountered while visiting a Guitar Center with my son. I hope you enjoy it! Pass the beer nuts.
And that’ll do it for today, my friends. If you have anything on hellacious traffic jams, bring us up to date on it. And I’ll see you guys again on Monday.
Have the great weekend!