Basically,
With all of the ghastly events occurring in the world today, anything else heinous in our own lives pales in comparison. It is human nature (with the exception of the sociopath) to feel guilty for being the asshole at the party with no shoes who basically complains loudly over the guy with no feet. I totally get it.
I strongly believe that one man's heinous is another man's traffic jam. I learned when Missy was 4 (aka only on the planet for 48 months) that a person's shit is a person's shit - and to quantify it is an exercise in futility. (Missy's teeny hospital roommate was in for, like, a heart transplant - Missy, a mystery virus. Should I have just manned up and been happy it wasn't a transplant and let it go at that ? Crazy, right ? It was still my baby in the bed - and it was off the heezy..) Are we only allowed to be devastated when a flood washes away our entire family, rips them from our very arms ? How fair is that ? What about the lesser-known trials, the daily wars, the times that truly try men's souls. I can't imagine living in Indonesia and staggering around through the rubble, covered in mud and shit - and I bet they can't imagine being stuck for 5 hours on Interstate 580 in Oaktown, either. If they had a choice, they would so opt for it taking them 5 and a half hours to drive home from The Valley in the blazing heat. Me, I would have rather been up to my eyelashes in rubble and ruin than sit through what is now referred to The Jam of July. "First I was afraid, I was petrified.." (Gloria Gaynor - "I Will Survive"). I'm doing a steady 80 mph on the open road returning from the San Joaquin Valley in California - taking the windmills at a merry clip - knowing I'll be home by noon at this rate. The more I drive, the further I get from the stifling heat. I have mad tunes, a bottle of water, and a tube of Mentos. Can you say "road ready" ? I continue to book along, well pleased with myself and the world at large. Up ahead - a little blip of a road stall ? One of the highways biggest mysteries: why does traffic suddenly halt for no real reason ? I adjust myself accordingly. I'm heading into Oaktown now - pretty much the home stretch. The FasTrak is itching to beep. What's this ? Do I see brake lights all the way to Canada ? What can it be ? As luck would have it, and unbeknownst to me, I was driving smack right into a heaping helping of Indonesian mud and rubble and shit... Long story not even remotely short : there was a wild shooting spree on 580 at midnight-ish early last Sunday morning. I was on the road 10 hours after this event. If there was a sign warning of what was to come, myself and 600,000 other drivers did not see it. ( Maybe it was on those Amber Alert boards - but they usually say something totally gay like : "Click It Or Ticket !" and I just can't be bothered.) A car trip on a Sunday morning of less than 100 miles took almost 6 hours. It was hell. War is hell. It became my war. To leave a bit after 10 a.m. and not arrive home until almost 5 p.m. is something that should never have happened to me. In the blazingblazing heat. I think my absolute disbelief, denial, and absurd behaviors (s) are the only things that kept me alive. Some things I did to help pass the time include (but are in no way limited to) : 1) See how many car lengths I could let stretch in front of me before I coasted ahead. No gas pedal, and as little brake as possible was my goal as I nervously watched the car 'heat needle' inch up up up.
2) Begin a rousing round of "Really ? Really ?" whenever someone had the bright idea to get in front of me. Even an amoeba would realize that nothing short of spontaneous human combustion (henceforth, SHC) would make any difference in the shit-storm we were trapped in. Really.
3) Experimented with the Mentos : bite and chew ? Let dissolve? Saw sideways with the teeth ? Enjoy it on the sublingual ? Stick it under my upper lip and talk with a British accent (i..e. "I say, can you show me the way to Carnaby Street, luv ?")
4) Obsess about the meager amount of water I have : if I save it for the radiator, it will be like pissing on an inferno - the car will blow more water than I can put in. If I drink it all, I am setting myself up to die in the desert and will have to drink my urine like OJ in 'Capricorn One'. If I drink the last hot hot sips, I can use the bottle for something else...
5) To wit - a drumming implement ! I am moved by what seems to be a karmic iPod shuffle mode: as I hear, back to back, the songs "Misery" (Green Day) and "Slow Ride" (Foghat). I know, right ? I belt out a heartfelt "Misery" and perform an awesome drum solo for the ages on the dashboard to "Slow Ride". It's on...
6) The loud singing, drumming, and gyrating seems to be passing the time as I wring the sweat from my hair. I decide to try and involve the others. By this time, a few people are walking around, and I blast Kiss, and urge them to "..rock and roll all night, and party every day". It sure n beats the inevitable SHC.
7) Don't think for a second that it is all singing and sweating. Occasionally, I will scream "FUUUUUCCKKK!" loud and long. I occasionally and dramatically hold my empty water bottle/drumsticks out the window to warn the others that Trudy is out of water.
8) I begin to engage those without air conditioning. I wave to the ones I continue to inch past, and ask things like : "So, how you doin' ? I'm at 3 hours - how about you ? I heard it was a shooting - I hate to be rude, but how long can a shooting take ?" Seriously.
9) I make a statement by either a) having my hands on top of my head while "driving" and b) using only my middle fingers on the steering wheel. That'll show 'em !
10) I call out for my Mom. Loud.
Close to 3 p.m., and i start to see flashing lights about 1500 miles ahead. At last, some visual reason for this hell. Suddenly, a sign says (get this) "5 left lanes closed ahead". Zounds. 600,000 cars (I don't lie - this is an estimate for 580 traffic on a Sunday) are being funneled into one bitty little exit. Oaktown being the cesspool it is, there are no "officials" to maybe direct traffic off the freeway and onto Grand Ave. Nooooo - 600,000 cars are leaving the freeway to a traffic light that lets THREE cars go per cycle. Really ? (I say my last "really?" as I am one car away from blessed escape - and some crack whore won't let me merge : "Really ? You are seriously not going to let me in ? Are you insane ?!" So now, for all intents and purposes, I am lost in Oaktown. I call Chief and whimper. He says follow everyone else, they'll lead you back on to the freeway. They don't. I drive and drive and suddenly I am in a ghost town of a nabe with, like, door and sash places, public storage, storefront Baptist churches...Mommy ! I call Chief back - tears are imminent. I am going to die in Oaktown I and I look like hell. What if I get hooked on crack ? Does our heroine make it home ? Apparently. I was like a race car at a pit stop : I needed food, water, coffee, a shower... Chief had several Dasani (water of choice) on ice, and a pot of chili on the stove. The computer area looked like a newsroom traffic desk - he had all kinds of maps pulled up.
I felt like a soldier after a siege on Pork Chop Hill. I was twitching, I still felt like I was moving - I was even sweating in the shower. Being in the car now makes my blood run cold. I invariably start singing and shouting and banging around. My butt hurts. I feel light as a feather every time I am going over 1 MPH. Good times. So, you see - it IS hell everywhere. My hell, your hell, the hell of the Indonesian (hey - I liked their first album..). I was pushed to the absolute limits of sanity and endurance. Not in the jungle, dodging pungee sticks - but on an American interstate highway. The only thing ripped from my hands was my sanity, dignity, and sense of purpose I live to tell (and tell) the tale. My right arm is blisteringly sunburned. My brain hurts. The Mentos are gone. I am a soldier.
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