Fury Road

To get to and from work everyday I have to travel on the Birmingham equivalent to the 405 in Los Angeles. It’s basically Mad Max Fury Road. Some days, I beat the road. Reading the lanes, finding breaks in traffic, and getting home before my bladder bursts. Other days, such as today, the road beats me.

I try to be optimistic about my travels home, if I haven’t heard of any incidents by the time I’m walking to my car. I get in my car, and get some music going to pump myself up for Fury Road. So far so good. I’m casually driving the speed limit towards the interstate, no one is driving like a moron, we might actually do this!

It takes a total of 2 miles and 5 minutes for all of that to go to hell in a hand basket.

Now I’m surrounded by idiot drivers, I’m excited if I go above 15 mph, and I’m pretty sure I just saw a toddler flip off an old lady. And so this fresh hell begins.

It only gets worse. At this point, I’m 30 minutes into my drive and have witnessed two wrecks, 5 birds being flipped, about 8 people texting, 4 cars bail out, and a car full of teenagers cutting people off with centimeters to spare. I also have to pee.

Here’s the thing, I’m a happy person, I like doing nice things for people, I want everyone to get along and be happy. I’m a peaceful person. BUT, for whatever reason, traffic makes me hate people indiscriminately. Why can’t people just follow the rules of the road and drive like a semi-sane individual?

Annnnnnnnddd now the mouth breathing teenagers almost take off the entire front end of my car.

I still have to pee.

I’ve made it over half way. I can do this. I’m not going to cry, or be on the news….I repeat to myself chanting.

I was actually sitting in park at one point. IN PARK. On the interstate. With a full bladder and needing a snack and a hug. The guy next to me was devouring a glorious burger. Bastard.

After about 10 minutes, we start crawling again. Then we stop. Then we crawl. Then we stop. Luckily, Stella had already been picked up from school and wasn’t hearing any of mommy’s traffic words.

I’m still at least 5 miles from an exit that will get me home. Still have to pee. Still trying not to cry. Oh and did I mention a rock cracked my windshield, and I ran over something loud and suspicious from the car in front of me?

I honestly don’t know if the tears I was holding back were from traffic or the feeling of my bladder trying to rupture.

I’ve finally made it to my exit 73 minutes later. I see the bright beautiful lights of the Jack’s. I can save my bladder from self destruction. I park and start to run inside, without unbuckling my seat belt. There were witnesses…

They also watched me run across the parking lot. I don’t run, ever, so I’m sure it was a sight to see. Especially the part where I tripped over the curb and almost face planted the door.

I walked back to my car and decided to go through the drive-thru for a milkshake. I deserved it for not having a psychotic break or a news worthy road rage moment. Fury Road bested me, but I just restocked my purse with snacks and Xanax, today I’ll be ready!

 

 

 

 

6 thoughts on “Fury Road”

  1. Whenever I’m running towards a bathroom in hurry, I always become paranoid about bumping into anybody that will want to talk to me – imagining hopping around with crossed legs lol

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