Chicken Tenders Are My Co-pilot

I hate traffic. I don’t know anybody who loves it, but I especially go out of my way to avoid it. I’ll take an extra half hour of side streets to avoid a busy freeway. I’ve been spoiled by small city living because even in the heaviest of traffic, it doesn’t usually take more than fifteen minutes to get anywhere.

When Satan’s Butthole gave us the option of moving or taking a permanent vacation, I opted for the permanent vacation. It wasn’t just because I detested Satan’s Butthole and everything it had become, nor was it entirely because we had kids, grandkids, and aging parents here in Oklahoma.

A big part of my decision was the fact that I didn’t want to spend a big chunk of the next fifteen years until retirement stuck in traffic.

Of all the “hubs” we were offered as part of our forced relocation, they are all located in big cities with shitty big city traffic. On top of this, I can’t afford to live in any of those cities making what I made at Satan’s Butthole. The only houses we could afford were in the burbs that were no less than forty-five minutes to an hour away from the “hubs”. That’s an hour commute in shitty traffic.

Both ways.

So, after much gnashing of teeth, difficult discussions, starting a blog thinking I would become rich overnight and talking to everybody I knew who had escaped, I got my current day job. Granted, it was a half hour away from my house in another small town, but it was a half hour’s drive on back-country roads.

I mean, a half hour doesn’t seem that bad when fifteen minutes of it is in sparse, early morning traffic on the way to drop Shane off at school, then driving the back roads where you get to watch the sun rise. I did almost hit a few deer here and there and I once encountered a caravan of old men driving 1920’s jalopies, but other than that, it’s peaceful.

You can imagine how thrilled I was when we put a deposit down on a lot to build a house and when I timed it, it only took me thirteen minutes (on the same back roads) to get to work. Commute time cut in half!

My euphoria lasted less than twenty-four hours. The next day at work, we were informed that our little office was being renovated and we would have to temporarily (or possibly permanently….or temporarily…depending on the day and who you ask) relocate to our downtown office for the next thirty they’re really kidding themselves to sixty to ninety days.

Downtown. Not downtown Broken Arrow where I live, which is really just a beautiful, modern version of old time Main Street in America. I would LOVE to commute there every morning.

No. Downtown Tulsa. Which, if you’re from a bigger city with actual traffic, is probably a joke and you could make that drive in your sleep.

But for me and my Trafficphobia, it’s a little more tense and more far away than I cared to ever drive. I’m not going to see any deer on this commute. Although a few years ago, some goats climbed up on a bridge on the Turner Turnpike, so I suppose anything is possible.

Soooo…guess what? I’m a fucking commuter now! Fifteen minutes to get to the high school and drop Shane off, then another half hour in city traffic to get to work! Good times.

Thursday was my first day, so I haven’t quite acclimated, but I did make a few observations, and maybe they’ll help you if you have to commute.

Pack A Snack

I’ll be honest. I learned this accidentally. The owner of the company bought us lunch as a thank you for being voluntold to uproot to a different office. I had about half of my lunch left over in it’s little styrofoam container and I brought it home with me after work.

Or rather, I brought it in the car with me. When I got stuck in five p.m. traffic, and I was getting hangry, I found myself eating my feelings, which wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I mean, it’s hard to scream “fuck you” when you’re busy stuffing your face with a chicken tender slathered in some kind of delicious spicy sauce. So, that’s kind of a win-win for everybody.

Also, as part of this suggestion, I strongly recommend finger foods. Those chicken tenders were super easy to scarf down while managing the steering wheel and waving half a peace sign at my fellow commuters.

The middle half.

However, you may not always have the luxury of finger foods during your road trip to hell commute. No worries. You just need to improvise.

For example, did you know you can drink coleslaw?

I didn’t either until now.

Make A Playlist

This is key, y’all. Your selection of music is important. This is probably not the time to listen to Metallica or Pantera. That will just fuel your anger and land you on the ten o’clock news.

On the other hand, you don’t need to listen to the Beach Boys or eighties pop because the shitty-ass traffic will totally ruin the good vibe.

This is what I call The Three Bears Science™. You don’t need anything too hard or too soft. You don’t need anything to hot or too cold. You need something just right.

I suggest eighties Hair Band music or some Johnny Cash. If you’re going to listen to rap, go a little less NWA and more Beastie Boys.

My choice for the afternoon commute was a combination of Joan Jett (not Bad Reputation or Cherry Bomb…again, avoid songs that ignite rage), Fleetwood Mac and Steve Earle. You can avoid screaming obscenities at your neighbor in the next car if you keep yourself occupied by singing about “taking C from Columbia and Mexico” and warning everybody to stay away from Copperhead Road.

Go To The Bathroom

I think this one goes without saying, but just like the pre-schoolers in our lives, we could always use a friendly reminder. That last guzzle of water right before you shut off your computer for the evening may sound like a good idea, but then the next thing you know, there’s a ten car pile-up on the Expressway and you’re an hour away from the nearest facilities.

I’m pretty convinced that half of the road rage incidents we see these days are not so much about somebody honking at someone or cutting someone off or making a rude gesture.

I think we all just need to tinkle.

Before you poo-poo that idea (see what I did there?!), think about how miserable it makes you when you have to go potty? Think about the worst time you ever had to pee and had no place to go that was readily available. Now imagine you’re rushing to get home so you can relieve your poor overburdened bladder, and some idiot does something that results in a significant delay.

I mean it makes sense, right? They don’t call it pissed off for nothing!

Anyway, as you’re reading this, I’ll probably be back in traffic again. As a parting thought, I guess I would just encourage you to be courteous. Remember your blinkers, people. Allow enough room to stop if something happens. Watch out for others.

And don’t speed past me acting like you’re hot shit, only to end up next to me, because this will happen:

Stay weird, my friends. Normal is boring!