I remember that day. It was not worth remembering except for the fact that I was enroute to an appointment that was prearranged by my physician. I was on a street that I have been on many times before and I was far from home. As luck would have it, traffic was brutal almost all the way and eventhough I left right on time, I feared I was going to be late. It is not the "arrival" but the process of "getting there" that was beginning to upset me.
All was moving quite well on the expressway until I was forced to exit on the surface street. At each intersection it was a game of stop and go, and so I resigned myself to let the games begin. A red light is the difference between success and failure to me right now. I realize that my left foot is moving about in an impatient way; it is tapping to the song on the just turned louder radio station. My heart is beating just a bit faster. I feel energized and the hard rock is cranked up, changed, and then the volume set again. In my head, I begin to see through the images of my minds eye. What I see are the details of my successful arrival. In this daydream, red lights remain green until I pass. They must be green and I cannot be late, I have been warned. The office letter for a new patient states, "don't be late (unless you die in a car crash!") thanks Nurse. Yes, I know...DON'T BE LATE!
I am weaving in and out, in between lanes, and running the ambers. My heart begins to beat just a little faster. I'm watching for the police...I do not need them right now. Everyone that screams slow is in front of me. At the next red light, I survey the vehicles wondering which one will hit the gas first and blow the intersection. As I creep up behind the (in my head) faster car, I pray. When you are in a hurry, sitting at a traffic light is almost cathartic.
As the traffic moves in front of you, you get to see all of life's characters and wonder about their lives. You can also make up stories to pass the time. Some drive loud old cars, or twirl their hair while talking on the phone. Teenagers are always talking and there are ususlly four packed into an itty-bitty car. They are smoking and every window is foggy, hey-that guy in a Cadillac is eating a submarine sandwich-**** that looked good.
Sitting here feels like a lifetime before the light changes and I can proceed. I am moving smoothly but swiftly from lane to lane. Making some progress, I get trapped behind an old lady in front of me and some dude on the phone next to her. I am unable to get around either and think about passing in the turning lane. I was forced to do that once when a long line of drivers stopped dead (pardon the pun) for a funeral procession that was driving parallel to them. Like...what? God, how do people drive today! I realize of course, driving in the double yellow may bring me some legal problems so I decide not to revisit that manuveur, at least not in Oakland County. Since I have never been jailed or hospitalized and look lousey in orange or stripes I will hang on. Finally, one of the ding bats in front of me decides to turn, thank God I am now free to be me.
