I am an advocate for public transport. I know I know, many of you live in countries where only freaks and weirdos catch public transport, but you also have governments who seem to think attacking people is a good way to garner peace, so I think I’m on a winner. It’s cheap, is better for the environment, and as I have come to realise, quite quick.
So, it was a very big decision for me to drive to work with the New Recruit. I never intended to. I was always going to take him in to daycare on the bus with me. Until my workmates laughed when I told them, then looked horrified when they realised I wasn’t joking, then said, “why wouldn’t you drive?” and I was all, “why wouldn’t I drive?! Indeed!” No stinky people who seem to have never heard of deodorant. No middle-aged men sitting spread-legged. No young women never offering their seat to their pregnant sistas. No sardine reminisent crammed journeys. My own music! My own car! Arriving at work looking fresh and clean!
What a pup.
It has taken me N.I.N.E.T.Y. minutes in the car both mornings. Do you know just how much SCREAMING the New Recruit can do in that time, as the car, he does not like. That does not include the parking the car, the getting out of the car, the getting him to daycare and getting me to work component. Which adds another half an hour. It takes me FIFTY minutes door to desk on the bus.
So here are some things I’ve noticed in one hundred and eighty minutes of peak-hour traffic…
– young women drivers are APPALLING. Maybe it’s the oversized sunglasses impeding their vision. Maybe it’s the Apline Lights hanging out of their mouth. Maybe it’s the constant chronic texting because “oh my God, I sor (sic) Trent last night and like, he smiled at me but I was all get fucked Trent, you SUC”. Maybe this seasons gold espadrilles keeps getting caught under the break/clutch/accelerator. Or maybe the tcktcktcktck of their indicators is a great comedown of the Es they dropped the night before.
WHATEVER the reason, they SUCK. They’re selfish, OBLIVIOUS to the bazillion other motorists on the road and are really really pissing.me.off.
– I wonder if Jasper would scream this much on the bus.
– I wonder if I could breastfeed him on the bus if he did scream this much.
– Catching the bus would save me at least about 50 bucks a week.
– Men in Commodores. Read: the company pays for this car. I adhere to traditional work practices and think Australian Business Limited makes sense, as opposed to the fascist, mysogynistic, patriarchal devil spawn it is. These men have never made dinner in their lives. They have no idea where the vacuum is and would express incredulity as to why they should. Their wives do e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. in the home, with the kids and lie on their backs at least once a week for him to relieve all that stress from work. And yet there is still this poisonous, underlying current of ‘in her place’ trickling through these men’s collective psyche. These are the men who think The Footy Show is top quality tv and MMM is awesome. These men dream of getting a blowjob while sitting behind the wheel of their company car and it would not even occur to them to give anything to the blower except maybe throwing her a twenty…
They hog the road. They zoom up the lane that is ending a few cars away rather than merging in a considerate and timely way like the rest of us. They all live in Cherrybrook or Forestville.
– Oh a gap in the traffic, go, Go, GO!
– God I HATE the Wakehurst Parkway/Warringah Road intersection.
– Men in convertibles. Men, it is p.i.t.y. you see in our collective eyes, not envy. You sad, sorry little men.
– Women in convertibles. We all know you are the trophy wife. We all know you work in sales on a womens magazine. Get over it, do that button up on your blouse or maybe get a bigger size in the lycra t, and keep.your.eyes. on.the.road, rather than the visor mirror as you apply your cock-sucking red lipstick. Again.
– This baby calm CD is actually very calming.
– Tradies. Dudes, you are SO late. You were meant to be at work HOURS ago.
– What I’ve said more in two days than in two months:
“We’re almost there”
“WHY are you slowing down? WHY? Oh, that’s why. Sorry.”