So I’ve been seeing this girl in Hoboken (which I have stated before feels like Germany since I live in Queens). When I say “seeing”, I don’t mean dating. We have agreed to introduce each other as, “this is the person who I see on a repetitive basis.” One night last week, I thought it would be a nice change to drive both of us to her house rather than take the PATH train. Unfortunately, my act of chivalry turned into an apocalyptic nightmare.
Since I live in NYC, I realize having a car is a luxury and I refuse to buy a nice one. Why? Because if you have ever parallel parked a car with a stick shift on ice, you would understand the impending doom that awaits your car. With a brand, new car, you would become nauseous every morning as you assess the depreciating damage that had occurred overnight. The downfall to my practical approach to transportation is that I have no A/C and my 90’ Honda Accord becomes a mobile, compartmentalized hell. There are three words that best describe how it feels to creep along in gridlock traffic through the Holland Tunnel while it’s ten thousand degrees and humid: Taint of Satan. On the plus side, I was able to bake some pottery pieces I made in the West Village in my trunk (or kiln).
So once we made it through the forty-five minute traffic (so much more convenient than the fifteen minute ride on the air conditioned train…very smart), I had to park. My car stuck out like a sore thumb in Hoboken. If you’ve never been to Hoboken, know that even I (a slightly tanned six foot six guy with blonde hair and green eyes from Texas) feel ethnic in Hoboken. It’s gentrified to the nth power where “n” stands for “no colored people”. So not only did my ratty car stick out with my NY plates but I also didn’t have a Hoboken city decal. Every sign clearly warned “All Vehicles Without a Hoboken Decal Will Be Towed.” I spoke to a local and he said I’d be alright until the morning, but I’d have to leave by 7:45AM. He kept saying it over and over, “Man, you have to get the hell out of here before 7:45. Believe me, they will tow you. They will tow you.” He delivered the advice to me as if we were in 1942 Germany and I had a yellow star sewn into my shirt.
Even though we had to endure the trek across the Hudson and the parking situation was dismal, it was well worth the trouble. Fortunately, “the person who I have been seeing on a repetitive basis” is very accepting and wasn’t at all bothered by the amount of time it took or the lack of amenities my car had to offer. The morning came quick and I reluctantly awoke and briskly walked to my car. I looked at my watch and was sickened to see that it was 7:52AM. I envisioned a tow truck with a swastika emblazoned on its side ripping my car away and towing it to the Auschtwitz Tow Facility. Miraculously, my car was unscathed and ticket free.
I hopped in my car and drove toward the Lincoln Tunnel. It was snarled with a cluster fuck of cars, buses and trucks. A nonsensical symphony of blaring car horns mixed with intoxicating exhaust fumes. I felt like a lone sperm cell flapping my flagella through the fallopian tubes of Lady Liberty. Every sperm was out for itself, each one with its own agenda and destination. The end of the tunnel finally became visible, an angelic beacon of blessed brightness. Lady Liberty’s egg was glowing and I wanted to reach it. Once I escaped from the tunnel, I had to begin my eight avenue battle to the Queensboro Bridge on the east side.
My first skirmish began with a difficult left turn that was not kind to courteous driver. The only way one can achieve this left turn is to temporarily put your kind-hearted soul into the glove compartment, become an apathetic asshole, and get ready to break some laws. “Take no prisoners”, “Kill em’ all and let God sort em’ out”, “Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes”, etc…I managed to wedge my self in the far right lane, although, half of my car was in the bus lane. The driver behind me started to honk his horn at me and not in the polite tapping fashion that comes off as, “Hey pal, just wanted let you know I’m here. I’d hate for something bad to happen” but in the psychotic-relentless-way-that made Michael Douglas go crazy in Falling Down fashion. At one point, I thought someone had hooked an electrical device to the driver’s testicles and was maliciously activating it every two seconds by remote control but then I figured out why the guy was freaking out. He was trying make a ‘right on red’ and squeeze down the bus lane, both of which are illegal. He only needed me to move up about a foot but I wasn’t going to go out of my way for anyone with that kind of horn etiquette. If I were a billionaire, I would have loved to have turned off my ignition, stepped out my vehicle, abandoned it, and completely block this law-breaking psycho for hours.
It became clear what I was doing once I had a half a car length in front of me, the driver went ballistic. I grudgingly inched forward. He peeled his tires as he exploded into the bus lane. Instead of zooming down the empty lane, he slammed on his brakes and came to jolting stop. He aligned himself strategically with my car, door to door. I felt like Danny Zuco in staring at the evil dude (the guy whose face looked like it was on fire and put out with an ice pick) right before the race. I was shocked to discover that the asshole who was going postal on me was a ninety year old man with a tube in his nose in a Mercedes. The reason he stopped was because he wanted to look me in the eyes and mouth the words, “Fuck you!” as he gave the bird with his pre-Great Depression, pre-Lusitania arthritic middle finger. Although, I was brought up Christian and now I’m agnostic, I still try to live by sound moral values. So I asked my self, “What would Jesus do?” The answer: He would have pivoted to the right by ninety degrees and give the old man two middle fingers and would have yelled, “Fuck you old man!” Not a lot of people know this but Jesus had an anger management issue. I actually contemplated throwing my empty Poland Springs water bottle at his window. Am I proud of myself for my behavior? No but it felt wonderfully cathartic.
The worse part of the situation was a young attractive woman was walking in the cross walk while we exchanged this bombastic banter. Had she witnessed the entire episode, she wouldn’t have judged me. But she hadn’t. Since he was in an air conditioned Mercedes, his windows were up and no one could hear him. My windows were down and everyone on the street could hear me. She had her back to his vehicle and was facing me. In life, it’s all about perspective. Similar to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, her observation became the reality. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped as I yelled at an aging octogerian hooked up to an oxygen tank. She gave me the universal tsk-tsk glare and shook her head from side to side. I’m curious if Christianity would have ever taken off if Jesus would have drove around in traffic to spread the word. I highly doubt it.
{ 0 comments… add one now }