my mornings in D.C.
One of the biggest changes I’ve come across in my new job and residence is, surprisingly, not the people or size of the city comparitively to Ashland, Ohio. Though there is a certain amount of culture shock involved in moving to a big place like the DC Metro Area, it subsides quickly. What I can’t get used to is the rat race that is the daily commute to and from the city.
Each morning, I venture out in my automobile on a 29-mile journey that takes anywhere between 45 and 90 minutes, depending on what crashes have occurred during the rush hour and what idiots are having trouble merging. Massive amounts of traffic. Everywhere. All the time. The drive is more exhausting than working, and it takes every bit of concentration I’ve got. It becomes sort of an instinctual thing; you learn exactly where the traffic patterns change, what types of drivers will cut you off and who is a fresh enrollee in the Beltway academy of driving.
The Beltway, as many of you know, is the collection of I-*95 (*insert 2,3, or 4 here) roads that makes up the highway circling Washington. Though many Washington “outsiders” (as Sarah Palin likes to say), the Beltway is the de facto boundary between the real America and the “fake” one inside. For those who use the roadways everyday, the Beltway is more like a driving Ring of Fire where the weak are quickly relegated to the right by those with the highly prized person in the passenger side who are eligible for the coveted HOV lane. I’m still not sure what “HOV” stands for, but I’m sure it’s something sweet, since I’m never allowed in it.
When I get stuck in traffic like I did this morning (due to a truck being crashed off the side of the road. No lane blockage, but it caused traffic to creep at 0-5 mph for miles), I like to glance over at the other souls marooned in their small cars that double as human cages. What are they doing? Some are talking on phones, some smoking cigarettes, some are clenching the wheels with white knuckles. On occasion, I see someone I recognize from a previous drive. Alas, stuck in my car, we’ll never meet. It’s a very odd world.
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There is nothing in life more painful than being stuck in traffic. My hat is off to you, I could not do it day in and day out. I would probably succumb to a bout of road rage and get myself shot by a more prepared road rager.
Comment by Timmy Grins — November 25, 2008 @ 11:37 pm
high occupancy vehicle numbskull.
Comment by L. — November 26, 2008 @ 11:23 am
Here’s to commuting. I’m torn about it, it’s nice to take mass transit to work and not to have to think about how I’m getting where I’m going, but at the same time, it would be nice to be alone in my own little pod, away from all the hustle and bustle and having someone grind against me all the way to 9th street. Then again, sometimes the grinding is welcome. Subway rave, anyone?
I’ve certainly hopped in a Town Car at the end of a long, shitty day and ridden home, but the reality of driving is gone for me. I miss it for trips to the grocery and for getting away, but I certainly don’t miss insurance, registration, traffic, gas, payments, parking in Park Slope etc. Fair trade-off.
Aside, drive your ass up here and visit! Bring that lady who called you a numbskull with you (I didn’t know what it meant, either).
Comment by Cory — November 26, 2008 @ 11:51 am
Move back to Ohio and get a gig in Cleveland and then it will force me to move there!! Commuting will still be a pain, but not as extreme
Comment by Nancy, Wasen,not Watson — December 15, 2008 @ 9:03 pm