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Manic Monday

Yesterday morning was a disaster.  When Alex comes to visit me he usually stays over on Sunday nights, and I drop him off at the train station on the way to work in the morning.  This typically works out fine, unless he has 37 bags, a box of booze, and a strong desire to not get out of bed on time.  All of which seemed to be the situation yesterday.

When we finally got out the door, it was about 7:15 which would make me late to work if I were driving straight there, forget about the train station stop.  Once we are on the highway, I notice Alex starting to feel around in his pockets.  “What don’t you have?” I asked him.  He ignored me and continued searching his pockets.  Knowing it was his Blackberry that he was most likely missing I pulled off the highway and headed back towards my house.  “Don’t talk to me for a second,” I told him.  “I have to call my boss and let him know i’m going to be late.”

With the Blackberry in our possession, we headed back toward the train station only to hit bumper to bumper traffic at a complete standstill the second we merged onto the highway.  That is when I banged my head on the steering wheel a few times, muttered a string of curses, and Alex ate his apple and bagel.

We made it to the train station at 7:58, two minutes before I had said I would be at work, and just as the horn of a train let us know of its imminent arrival.  We said our goodbyes quickly, Alex bolted for the train, and I continued my drive to work.  Where I finally arrived at 8:20.

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