Sunday, April 01, 2007
P - Bomb
Think that's my rapper name? Well, let me tell you a little story.
En route to Saturday School on Saturday, I became involved in the backwash from this. When two people are killed by a drunk driver, it really bungs up Central Expressway, as well it should, I suppose.
The ensuing traffic glut took THREE hours to get out of. Not only did I have to navigate the jam with my carpooling matey, but our battery also died in the middle of it. Thank God I live in Texas, where you can always count on a truck-drivin' bubba to come along momentarily and rescue you. And, bless him, one did and had the car jumped within about a minute.
But on we sat. And inched up. And sat. And inched up. And watched people drive the wrong way up the on ramp to get out of it. And watched people look at their watches time and again. And called our bosses to say we weren't going to be in. And sat. And it occurred to me that I had to go.
So I thought I'd try to wait. But on we sat. And inched up. And sat. And remained motionless. And felt the warmth of the sun. And inhaled the exhaust. And sat. And noticed that the underside of the foliage which spills over the concrete walls had no leaves. And that there was a lot of trash caught in it. And that it was too far and too dangerous to walk up the offramp to Ken's Shocks and Mufflers, which has an old-fashioned rotating sign atop the head of some Huckleberry Finn looking dude, to use the loo. And that doing it on the side of the highway, with an audience of hundreds, was also unattractive.
By and by, it was noted that action must be taken. Swift, effective, action.
Regrettably, a quick and dirty solution was found. A solution that hearkened back to the days of childhood road trips, when stops were not allowed, and when half-gallon milk containers were defiled. Necessity is a mother.
A plastic coffee cup with a screw-on lid that we generally use for coffee on our morning drives was located. It was decided that this would be its last valiant act of service. Taking care to keep hidden and again thanking the Lord that this was a van with tinted windows, and that I more than likely would not end up on YouTube, I completed the required task, screwed the lid back on, and locked it down.
So as if we weren't in enough of a mess, from that moment until we finally got out of the jam about an hour later, we had to transport hazardous materials, in the form of the P - Bomb. We almost used it on an asshole who cut us off, but thought better of it (and the possibility of backsplash).
We got out of the jam relatively unscathed and harmlessly disposed of the sealed bomb in a marked waste container at an undisclosed location (sorry, Racetrac guy).
The moral of this ordeal?
PLEASE: Don't drink and drive.
I heard the world up, late night.
Holding my breath tight, trying to keep my head on right.
There's a chill in the air, nobody could care.
How you're caught up in the fight of your life. -- O.A.R.