A commuter finds himself in a no win situation
Twelve lanes of traffic and I'm stuck in the middle. Forty-five minutes I've sat, not moving a foot. The engine is off, cold and I'm low on gas in compliance with Murphy.
The traffic report said everything is clear and moving. I suspect conspiracy right away. There is a higher power at work here.
The media is complicit since every station confirms the ease of today's drive and the brilliance of this sunny summer morning.
I sit in drizzle, certain a funnel cloud approaches from the West.
In front of me is a tank. It rides on a trailer with a bumper sticker that seems to imply sex is better in Tennessee. I've been to Tennessee, I wholeheartedly disagree.
Behind me is an aircraft carrier of some sort. It's too big to see entirely in my rear view mirror, but I can make out a massive grill and what appear to be Cruise missiles. It sits four inches from my bumper and sounds like a bench grinder, openly hostile. I don't turn around or provoke it in any way.
To my left sits a silent car; some new electric or hybrid chariot in a putrid olive green. The driver is an alien; bald head, pinprick nostrils and a slit for a mouth. I don't stare, but I do glance. When our eyes meet he nods his head knowingly, and I shiver. I pretend I don't see him and go back to doing nothing.
I hear nothing on the radio about an alien invasion, but this does not comfort me since they can't get the weather right.
I need to find a bathroom. The only receptacle in the car is a small coffee cup, and that is half full of warm coffee. There is no way I'll venture outside to pee in front of an alien, or for that matter an aircraft carrier.
To my right sits a van with an exceptionally hairy woman at the wheel. The van has no side windows, so it's obvious - they've surrounded me. No escape. With military front and rear, aliens to the left and a Sasquatch kidnapping van to my right, I've no chance.
I see how it's all gonna go down.
In a moment the turret of the tank will rotate to the rear, gun barrel pointing in my face, as the boat behind me prepares to launch a boarding party. Men in black suits will pour from the back of Big Foot's van while signalling the alien to prepare the ass probe.
Well screw that; not as long as I have some fight left in me! I start the car and repeatedly honk the horn hoping to attract attention from others in the area. And it works. A police officer walks back from the side of the tank and raps on my window. As I lower it, he asks me what the problem might be.
Where do I start?
I wordlessly motion all around me, waiting for him to realize the impending threat.
"Just be patient," he says. "You'll be free in a few minutes.
"Free?" Clearly, he understands the situation. There's hope.
As he walks away, I'm startled to discover the alien is gone. Vanished; not a trace.
Now there was space beside me, space I immediately occupied, advancing alongside the tank until I was entirely past.
The policeman's prophecy was correct. I was indeed free.
After a few minutes I was moving at a good pace and, seeing the exit for a truck stop, I exited for gas and a much-needed washroom.
At the urinal, I'm relieved in every possible way. I smile to myself for such a crafty escape, a rapidly draining bladder being the perfect reward.
Glancing to my left, the man at the next urinal meets my gaze and nods.
"Beautiful day!" said the alien and blinked.
"No," I said. "No, it is not."