September 13, 2010

I was THAT girl...

Last night, I was driving home from a VERY long weekend. Friday, I had driven the 3+ hours up to camp to be support staff for our school's beginning-of-the-school-year retreat for our 10th and 11th grade students. I had spent the weekend serving ice-cream sundaes, whirrlies (think McFlurries), dipped cones...pretty much, anything made out of soft-serve; and singing my heart out to "Taylor, the Latte Boy" during skit night.

Leaving camp yesterday, I turned left when everyone else turned right (not a metaphor, I promise...and not a mistake), and spent the afternoon bumming around one of my favorite small downtowns. I then dropped by some dear friends' home to chat and hang out for a while.

By the time I actually headed home, for my 3+ hours journey back, it was early evening. I pumped the ipod, sang my heart out to Glee soundtracks (yes, I'm a Gleek...), and let my introverted self enjoy the hours alone.

20 miles from home, traffic came to a standstill. Luckily, it was right at a cut-off through the hills; a relatively unknown highway that connects two freeways which run parallel to each other. The one I was on is in less of a metropolitan area, so it's easier to travel the majority of the way upon...I then cut over to freeway #2 only a few miles from home...well, that's usually. Due to the traffic, I jumped on the two-lane highway through the hills, figuring that moving in the general direction needed was better than sitting still.

It was just as I was going to head onto highway #2 that I realized it. Flat tire. It's a very distinctive sound, that whoop-whoop-whoop...not to mention the pull on the car. My heart sank, and as I began to search for a safe place to pull over, I silently gave thanks that I had just renewed my AAA-membership.

An hour later, I was back on the road with the "donut" in the place where my front-right-tire should've been. A "donut" being what it is, one cannot drive over 50mph with it on the car. The ONLY way home for me from where I was, was on the freeway.

As I began to merge, I realized that I was going to be THAT driver. The one who does 15mph under the speed limit. The one who everyone speeds up to, curses, and then zooms around. I found myself apologizing to every single vehicle in my vision, and actually trying to get them to understand that I had a spare on my car.

There I was, flashers on, doing 50mph, screaming apologizes (as if they could hear me), and explaining, even though no one could hear me...or read my lips because it was so dark...the whole way home.

I found myself laughing the whole time. The hilarity of the situation far overruled the tragicness.

Now, it's time to load myself up on antihistamines (stupid Latex allergy) and get that car to the mechanic...


Post a Comment