How To Annoy Me

This past weekend was spent in Vermont with Michael and the dog. It was so nice to nap on the couch, walk in the crisp mountain air and not answer the phone. I even got to indulge in maple sugar candies which are soooo good.

But four hours in the car each way did not make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved the time with Michael. Actually, driving with him is something I really enjoy. But when faced with a four hour trip, there is bound to be some mishaps along the way.

On the way to VT we hit traffic in Massachusetts. Some type of bridge work that really should have been done in the middle of the night, not on a Saturday afternoon. Really.

The main reason for the holdup was that two lanes had to merge into one. There was a big orange sign that said "RIGHT LANE ENDS ONE MILE" that most people took to mean the right lane was ending.

But not all people.

No. Not Ms. Mini-van. (Have I ever written about how much I hate mini-vans? No? Remind me to.) Ms. Mini-van was so concerned about getting ahead just a few more feet that she would speed up in the right lane and try to pass all of those (specifically us) who had followed the sign and gotten in the left lane. Luckily for us, the guy in front of us wasn't having it either. He straddled the middle line just enough so she couldn't pass him and we stayed right behind him so she couldn't get in front of us.

But she wouldn't let up. There she was, right next to me rolling her eyes and getting agitated. And I had enough. My window was down. I turned around. I may have thrown my hands in the air. And said "you're going to get in an accident! Get over it and get behind us!"

Another eye roll, but she got behind us. Michael was surprised at my passenger-seat road rage. But HONESTLY. Some people.

On the way home we hit traffic again. This time it appeared to be for no reason, until....Oh. I-84. How I loathe you 84. The worst leg of the trip when I head home to NY and here it is again, dumping traffic onto 90 when all I want to do is get home!

We decided this would be a good time for a pee and snack break so we pulled off into a rest area. You know, a fancy one, with a McDonalds and a Papa Johns. And an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Like I said, fancy.

We parted towards our respective bathrooms. I waited for a stall and when one of the doors opened, the girl coming out looked and me and kept on going. So I went in. And saw that she hadn't flushed. What? Ew. What is wrong with people?

I wasn't about to wait again so I flushed it for her as I pressed myself against the door willing her excrements to stay in the bowl and away from me. When I was done I went out to wash my hands.

Sink #1, no soap. Sink #2, no soap. Sinks 3, 4, AND 5....NO SOAP! Sink #6 finally had soap and it was the icky rest stop smelling soap. You know, the pink kind.

Michael was waiting for me when I came out and we were hungry so we decided to get a pretzel. Well apparently they don't make the parmesan anymore (the best kind) so I settled for a regular and he chose a cinnamon sugar.

"We only have one regular right now, but we have an almond one," said the cashier.

"That's it?" Michael asked.

"We're making more now," she replied. "They'll be ready in about seven minutes."

I'd be damned if we were going to stay in that rest stop for another seven minutes.

"We'll take the regular," Michael said.

Can I just tell you that the regular was dinky and unsatisfying. What ever happened to big, doughy pretzels?

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The dog made up for lost time in his yard by running around and barking at the sky. I made dinner and we settled in for some Sunday night TV.

A great weekend. Minus the traffic.

And the pretzel.