On Tuesday I left for work about ten minutes earlier than normal. I needed to pay someone to pass me a sack of fat through a window at Burger King, and couldn’t afford to be late for work. I’d given an employee a lecture the previous evening, you see, about punctuality. And it wouldn’t be a very good example if I shuffled in five or ten minutes late, the very next day.
So, I got my bag of artery-packers, and was tooling down interstate 81, eating and humming along to a Cracker CD. I had plenty of time, and was in a good mood for some crazy reason. Then everything went circling down the poop-catcher…
Just past Dunmore, and the appropriately named Drinker Street, it was a sea of brake lights, all the way to the horizon. Grrr… And I quickly went from humming and tooling, to growling and sitting still.
I hit the AM button on my radio, and Rush Limbaugh was playing a song about an upcoming terrorist trial, sung by a man with a Middle Eastern accent, to the tune of “New York, New York.” Eventually a Breaking News report interrupted, and it was no good. No good at all.
Apparently a tractor trailer carrying some sort of chemical had crashed on I-81 South, a few miles ahead, and ALL LANES were closed. And they probably wouldn’t be reopened, it was reported, until seven o’clock! I heard this around two o’clock in the afternoon, so holy shit.
Here’s a report about the accident that appeared on the five o’clock news. By that time some of the details had changed, but you’ll get an idea of the magnitude of the mess.
I had to get off the interstate somehow, but it wasn’t an easy task with my car in PARK. So I just sat and polished off the rest of my fries, contemplated the situation, and mumbled profanity. Every once in a while we’d move forward about ten feet, but that isn’t much help.
I called my boss and told him I’d be late, possibly very late, and he was cool with it. News of the “disaster” had already swept through our workplace, so they knew I wasn’t just making up an elaborate story while lounging in the Happy Endings Massage Parlor.
After what must’ve been 45 minutes, I traveled two or three miles to the next exit and got off the highway. There were cops there, directing traffic in a specific direction, and before I knew it I was in some unknown town that looked like 1949. What the hell, man?
I was a long way from work, in a place I’d never seen before, and didn’t know where to go. I could get back on 81 going north, and jump on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. But that requires a return to 81 for the last six or seven miles of the journey. Would I be putting myself right back into the crash-truck copulation? I had no way of knowing how far the “trouble” extended.
But there were few choices, so I backtracked and took the turnpike to the Wyoming Valley exit. And it turned out I was far enough south, but every other driver had exactly the same idea. So, I sat in absolute gridlock for another hour.
By this time I had to pee, and was starting to squirm in my seat. If I’d had a mop bucket, I think I could’ve filled it – with a big frothy head on top. I replaced the Cracker CD with one by Fountains of Wayne, and talked to my boss again. He thought the whole thing was a riot, but I failed to see the humor.
As I sat there, my souring mood generating a cocktail of internal poisons, I started to anticipate the reception I’d receive at work. I knew, without a doubt, that at least one person would criticize the way I dealt with the situation. I could hear their asshole voice inside my head:
“Man, you were three miles from here! You went all the way back up to the Turnpike?? Bwahahaha! All you would’ve had to do was take 473 over to the Buttcrack Highway, stay on that for about half a mile. Then you know where Scrotum crosses Charles Nelson Reilly? Just take a left there, circle around Quaker Oats Boulevard, and you would’ve been right over the hill from here. I caaaan’t believe you went all the way back up to the Turnpike! Bwahahahaha!!”
It was pissing me off just thinking about it. In fact, I started answering the person’s comment, before there even was a comment, or even a person:
“What a great man you are! You know all the back roads in and around Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania! Boy, that ranks right up there with the accomplishments of Hemingway, Edison, and Jonas Salk. Fantastic! I can see you’re proud of yourself, and rightly so. Maybe they’ll put it on your headstone: He really knew his way around Pennsylvania’s twelfth-largest city. Bravo, my friend. Bravo!”
But I finally simmered down, and returned to I-81, several miles south of the accident. It was smooth sailing from there, and I was only two and a half hours late. Not bad, for a 36 mile trip, huh?
After testing the backlogging capacity of an American Standard urinal, I headed to my desk and my premonition almost came true. A woman started in on me, laughing and saying I should’ve done this, should’ve done that.
“I don’t wanna hear it,” I said, and just stared at her without blinking. End of conversation. And as she walked away she made her mouth into an O and shook her head, as if to say, “Hoooly shit.”
And that was the highlight of my Tuesday, hands down.
On Thursday we’re going to Toney’s cousin’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, and that might be OK. Probably not, but I’m trying to stay positive.
I don’t really have a Question today. But since so-called Black Friday is the traditional kickoff for Christmas shopping, why not tell us what you hope Santa (Santy) will bring you this year?
He doesn’t bring me much anymore, I guess I’ve been bad, but I’m planning to buy myself a Kindle soon, and still have my eye on that Droid phone. So, once again, it’s all about the gadgetry.
What about you? What do you want that riffled jolly man to leave you?
I’ll see you guys next time, whenever that might be.
Have a great holiday if you’re in America, and a great weekend if you’re somewhere else.
See ya soon.
one
Happy Thanksgiving Surf Reporters…..
now let’s all kick back, crack a cold one, enjoy the day and let the hilarity ensue….
numero dos!
I want a tattoo of ‘Great Wave off Kanagawa’ on my arm/shoulder so hopefully Santa will bring needles and ink!
and three…
Tell Santa to bring me a new iPod — a black 160g classic, please.
My problem is that I’M Santa. Many nieces & nephews. Thankfully, American custom doesn’t require that Santa deliver to ex-wives or their lawyers. Although I’d like to send a little gift up that barrister’s chimney.
Happy trails to all…jtb
…and be sure to demean yourself by sprinting through the doors of a big boob store that sells Asian electronics at 0500. Yeah, that makes sense.
Worked today (Thanksgiving). Celebrated by a dinner of popcorn and JWB. Happy Effing Thanksgiving.
Santa that works at amazon is shipping me a lg blueray player
so I can watch netflix from the comfort of my recliner, and a otterbox
defender case to protect my phone.
I asked for a coupon to the Happy Endings Massage Parlor in Wilkes Barre, PA.
I dont care if I get anything for christmas. As long as my 5 kids are happy I am happy. Aint that sweet? I cant believe I am 9th!!!!
This weekend I am working the whole weekend and I am going to slack off every single bit. I am predicting movies with a chance of much sleep. And perhaps I could squeeze in washing my car. God I love shift work…..
Plus I want the fat man to leave me a nice new computer. One that doesn’t need to be reformatted every few months….
I want Santa to bring me a big ass television in the bedroom, and I want to watch cheerleader porn on it with the wife and a bottle of wine and a bowl of cherries, like we did before the kids were born…sigh.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone
We should all chip in for a portable GPS for our husky scribe. Bueller? Bueller?
Happy Thanksgiving, Jeff and fambly and to all the surf reporters, too. I’m thankful I found this journal of sorts – I have had many laughs from both the updates and the comments over the years!
You’re going to love your Kindle, Jeff. It’s the best present I ever received. I like it even more than my iPod.
I’m hoping Santa Claus brings me a housekeeper, a nanny, and personal chef .. but I’m not getting any bedrooms ready. I might be willing to settle for an iPod Touch.
I hope you and your family have a great Thanksgiving.
GET THE DROID PHONE… It has a built in GPS that syncs to google maps. It would have directed you around that mess and to work in half the time. It syncs to gmail also so you don’t miss an email. Happy Gobble…
This is my favorite sentence fragment of the day:
“…My souring mood generating a cocktail of internal poisons…”
Well, since I’ve been on my own (read: not in a relationship) for over 4 years, I expect nothing and get nothing for American Commercialism Day.
You tell ’em Bill in WV. And fuck the Amish too! Bastards driving up the price of cherry wood the way they do. The nerve. Cutting down the trees to make all that over priced furniture is dirving up the price of cheeries too…because they’ve cut down all the fucking trees. And St. Valentine can kiss my ass too.
I would like a Kindle though….just sayin’ Santa.
Maybe i started drinking too early today, but I want my wife to turn bisexual, at least for a night.
“It was pissing me off just thinking about it. In fact, I started answering the person’s comment, before there even was a comment, or even a person”
Hahaha, I do this all fucking day at work! I have long, detailed arguments with customers, out loud, long after they’ve left the store. And not always “problem” customers – even if they’re perfectly normal, I have imaginary interactions with them AS IF they gave me a ration of shit. Insane, man, I’m insane…
Joe
Looks like lots of alternatives to take. I’ll have to street view them when I get to work….
Google maps link; http://tinyurl.com/yfnacla
Take your GPS with you and put it into map mode and start exploring those back roads. You’ll probably find something more palatable than the twin ribbons of standstill.
Hey bikerchick! we’re digging on your recipe for sweet taters & peaches! so good!
As someone who, unfortunately,does know all the backroads in and around Wilkes-Barre PA, I snicker in your general direction….quietly…..and very discreetly.
Seriously Jeff, you should put my number on your speed dial the next time the Hiway from Hell gets clogged up again and I can get you delivered to your workplace without you having to hear the banjos and being forced to squeal.
Hubby, who has to drive that stretch southbound from Scranton to get home, came home early from work Wed. fortunately and beat the incident by about 15 min. Otherwise I would have been forced to take the daughter for her third try to pass her driver’s test…..and there isn’t enough valium or liquor in Luzerne county for me to handle that task!lol
I would like one of those Lego Millennium Falcons for xmas, the big $500 ones, and if Santa doesn’t deliver he must be deaf – I’ve said I want one enough times.
I didn’t know cheerios grew on trees. Interesting. DTO – you know some cool shit.
My present to myself is going to the mall in about three hours, hanging out in the parking lot all night partying, then tomorrow, screwing with shoppers heads by walking out to the car with bags in my hands waiting to catch a unsuspecting victim pulling up and waiting impatiently for that “perfect” spot. I’ll load the trunk, maybe even spilling a bag in the process and taking forever to find something under the car, then take a call and stand by my open door for a few. Then, in the most agonizing part of all, I’ll get in, start the car, put it in reverse, then something will go wrong. I’ll stall it, or get another call, or simply shut off the car, get out and walk back in the mall. It’s the best part of the holidays! Yes, I’ll go to hell and I’m a terrible person and bla bla bla, but you have to admit it’s funny. Happy Thanksgiving!
RNK…I’m in the middle (actually at the end) of a 50,000 word project that has to be finished buy the end of the month, so my spelling has gone south at this point …y = ies. One of those…aw crap moments right after ‘submit’ but I’ve given up on fixing those. And actually I must have some Amish in my blood line because I still use a hand powered toothbrush.
I want peace in “the Iraq” too.
Hell I didn’t even read it right. You wrote cheeries…I read cheerios. I blame the wine. What are you writing? If it’s erotica can I have a copy please?
RNK…I re-read what I posted before, before and have no idea what I just apologized for…but it was fun. I’ve been married twenty-two goddamn years and I’m used to saying I’m sorry. I even tell the fucking cat I’m sorry.
Message to Santa…do something about this goddamn cat!
Hmmm…love my kittys (Darwin, Gwynn, and Pepperrico)… Anyways, as for Santa, My wife and I just bought a Serta king sized bed for Christmas. It is heavenly…except the cats think that it is theirs.
AND…my wife bought me a M-4, with 200 rounds. Damn I love that woman!
No…I am not going to shoot the cats.
Maybe Santy needs to bring Jeff a GPS.
Went to Floriduh once and had to drive east in the westbound lanes to get where I was going. I guess a GPS wouldn’t have that route in it.
I don’t want much for RamaChaunaKwanzaMas but a big bag of peace and quite. Last year the best thing I got was a Hands Free Garbage Can…Still doesn’t take itself out though.
Once again, I’m thankful I can read the surf report from work.
It’s verrry quiet here, at least until this afternoon when the tailgaters start pouring in for the backyard brawl. Our office is adjoining the WVU stadium parking lot. Cars were parked along side the road pre-dawn. This is messed up and crazy.
How was everyone’s Thanksgiving? Passable here; there was some turkey at a party I went to so that turned out OK.
As for Christmas, a new pair of paratrooper boots would be nice, along with a new pair of jeans. And someone to clean the house and get rid of all the shit that’s accumulated. I’m not buying anything this year for myself or anyone else except (and it’s a slim possibility) my little brother.
Off to craigslist and ebay…creative financing begins.
All I want from Santa is some bottom fucking teeth. T-Day sucked ass with weasel like spikes to grind the bird up with.
I think you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque!
All I want for Xmas is a refund on that Burritto I ate this morning. Watching it go down the “Miracle of Swirling Non Potable” 14 minutes after consumption pissed me off!
As you may know I’m home alone so breakfast was…yesterdays T-Day feast. A DiGiorno Cheese Stuffed Crust Surpreme.I added pineapple and some extra mozzarella and it was just as great today. I was up watching the Suhttle land and finishing this writing thing around 5MST. And thanks to RNK…I have three endings now.
I’m off on a beer run (see home alone above)…and I really do like Jane The Cat a lot. Just a joke Sidney. By the way…how do you feel about skunks? An M-4…damn!!
wondering what happened to Sunshine and Mumbles…
AWG — maybe a Bass-O-Matic is the way to go? Off to drink again, 3rd period of the Pens game then to a punk rock house party. Odds are we’ll be dealing with police tonight.
Cheers!
We had tiny turkeys this year. Everyone got their own tiny turkey complete with tiny trimmings. I had huge beers afterwards. Great fun. Hope everyone has a great weekend.
I survived Thanksgiving with the outlaws. They were too stuffed with excellent turkey and wine to bitch about the state of the world [ending], so I didn’t spend the evening in permanent “clench” position. The next day, however, came talk of a murderous coup and an appearance by my pantless cousin-in-law. So we split.
Hope everyone else had a great holiday!
Rat On! Rats beat the Rams — not surprised…..
We went to the local Indian casino and partook of a fully traditional Northwest native feast: prime rib, waldorf salad, potatoes and gravy, mixed veggies, and several kinds of pie with whipped cream. Won $55. Free comp dinner for all. Smoked peace pipe and a couple of cigarettes. Now that my parents are gone (lost my Dad this year) this is as close as I come to a traditional TG.
Gretchen…I don’t know whether a “nurderous coup” or a “pantless cousin-in-law” is a more frightening TG scenario.
“…the state of the world [ending]…” is a haiku-level observation.
It’s not a bad thing to find a cogent, coherent, poetic paragraph on this site. Thanks Gretchen. Very nice post.
jtb
…and Jason, the picture of “tiny turkeys…tiny trimmings… huge beers…” conjures an image of Alice in Wonderland or at least the Simpsons. They might have been Cornish game hens, but you’ve planted the image in my mind of genetically engineered tiny turkeys and tiny trimmings that won’t go away.
This could entirely change the way we feed our troops in the field: MRE’s with an irritating gobbling sound that could reveal a position to the enemy under the wrong conditions. Or an entirely new diet plan for “little people.” It is a consummation to be devoutly wished.
Thanks for the picture in my head.
jtb
Just FYI, “nerderous” gets 240 hits on google — not as many as “tits” or “toots”, but 240 more than I expected.
I would define a “nerderous coup” as a change in government initiated by social outcasts of serious mind and with glasses taped for stability.
Or just cop to bad typing blamed on my 22 pound cat overlapping the pullout keyboard in my office. Padraig (poor’-ig) by name, Paddy by diminution.
Live and be well…jtb
Alice: Hey..So glad you liked the recipe!! It is scrumptious, ain’t it? I actually had two heapin’ helpin’s…one for each side of my ass…(!)
We went out Wednesday night before the big Turkey Day…ya know…the biggest party night aside from New Year’s.. Hopped around and ended up at a watering hole crawling distance from the house. Got completely disgusting on Jack & Coke. Good times.
Gretchen: Pantless cousin-in-law?? Now that’s a story I want to hear!! Bet it comes with good photo’s too! Ha
Thanks, Johnthebasket. I think “nerderous” should be the first new word of 2010. I’m imagining thousands of pasty fat kids descending upon the White House, swinging their plastic light sabers with wild abandon.
Bikerchick: The cousin-in-law is a high schooler, so, old enough to know better but too young for a picture, if you know what I mean. I think he’s one of those “there’s something not right about that boy” type of kids.
So here’s the skinny, literally. I was milling about the living room, trying to distance myself from the half-assed assassination fantasy being discussed in the kitchen, when said cousin-in-law suddenly wandered on by wearing only a t-shirt, which was mercifully just long enough but only barely. Why no, I don’t want a little turtle with my turkey, thanks very much. So just as my brain finally processed what I was actually seeing, Pantless starts bounding up the stairs right above me two at a time. HOLY SHIT! I did manage to turn away just in time, but it was still disturbing, especially because the kid’s about 90 lbs. soaking wet.
Needless to say, the car was loaded up in record time and we were on the road back to civilization a whole two hours earlier than planned.
I missed this sweet potato-peaches recipe. I’ll have to go back to the commentary and look for it. At the very least it would provide me with another casserole dish that perhaps Pantless can hold in front of him next year. 😉
So how come nobody tells the little bastard to put on some pants?