The Ride

I nervously run through my mental checklist.

Seatbelt tight enough....check

Enough leg room...check

My last will and testament...check

Prayed to all the Gods (even Allah)...check

Tell my girlfriend I love her...ummm

"I love you baby.". No response, just a quick glance. Then she goes back to fidgeting with her seatbelt.

Tell my girlfriend I love her...check
   
Okay, now I am ready to ride this thing. I think. Oh man, okay maybe I am ready. How did I get talked into this? Are we insane? I think everyone on this thing is insane.
 
Looking around I see people with their limbs (and heads) hanging out of their cars. I bet they won't do that when the ride starts. Even though some of these cretins raise their arms in the air and scream while the car is tossing them all over the place. This one adrenaline junky in particular is leaning out the side. I can see his Angels cap and his left arm just hanging out and he's talking on a cell phone. Is he crazy? Oh how I loathe him, but yet I admire him.

"Baby, do we have to ride this thing?" I ask my obviously frightened girlfriend. She has this deer caught in headlights look on her pale face. 

"We're already here," she mumbles. 

"Okay...umm...nice talk." Boy she sure is chatty today, a woman of few words, normally I would relish that, but not today. I need some reassurance from her that we're going to make it off this damn thing alive. Obviously I shouldn't hold my breath while waiting for that.
 
To keep my mind off my impending doom, I'm attempting to take in the lovely scenery. I see the lively palm trees slightly moving in rhythm with the gentle breeze. The sun is shining its warm spotlight down on my car so everyone can see my terror stricken face.
 
At least there are other masochists like us out here. The car in front is laden with an overly large couple, so big that his right shoulder is molded to her left shoulder. I can't even see the car in front of them. They are just chatting away- how can they be so calm?
 
There is a young couple behind us, maybe mid twenties. The guy is hiding his fear with his sunglasses and LA Dodgers hat pulled down to the top of them. His girlfriend has excessively gelled hair and too much makeup. Underneath all that makeup has to be a look of terror. Neither one of them is saying a word, they just stare straight ahead.

My girlfriend has now covered her face with her long black hair. All that is there are the sunglasses peaking out from her hair. I would ask her what she's thinking but she is just not in a talkative mood right now. It's not surprising though because she hates this ride more than I do.

I despise being at the front of the line because once we are at this point, there's no turning back. Now I can see the looks of confused fear on the faces of other people already riding it. I hear the screeching of wheels and the intermittent screams. I feel the wind as the cars zip by carrying their terrified passengers. I imagine they're wondering the same thing as me, "what the hell are we doing on this thing?"
 
Man it sure is hot. Sweat is pouring down my bald head and meeting at my eyes. They're burning; I want to wipe them with my shirt but my seatbelt is too tight. I like it to be too tight, it's better than not tight enough. Damn short sleeves....if I can just...need to wipe my eyes...

Oh man, I think we're moving now. Yea, this is it. I can see my girlfriend's knuckles turning white.
Wait a minute...
I change my mind...
I want off...
I don't...
I can't...
Well too late now. We are on now.
"Get over in the HOV lane" my girlfriend demands. "I don't want to be late for work again."
God I hate this damn freeway.