Driving Back to Stanford (aka BAD)

I went home for Memorial Day Weekend and in general, fun was had.  But that is a future post.  Today's post is on the drive back to Leland Stanford Junior University. (No it is not a junior university, it is just named after Leland Stanford Junior, thank you very much).

OK well first off, I hate this drive.  The drive from the LA area to Stanford is probably the only thing that I regularly do that I absolutely hate.  Well, I also hate exercising, but sometimes I kind of like it too.  This drive just sucks.

I have made that drive in the dead of night almost every time I've done it.  I have made that drive while trying to suppress the urge to throw up.  I have made that drive 11 times now, and 9 of those I was completely alone.  All of those in the last 9 months.  And more than once on that drive, I have shed tears and vowed never to drive ever again.  It is a cursed drive, I promise.

6 hours.  6 hours alone is enough to make me act a little bit crazy, but 6 hours driving is just really taxing on my soul.  But of course at the end of Memorial Day Weekend, the drive didn't take just 6 hours, it tool an entire 8 hours.  8 HOURS!!  Oh my goodness, the bad state of mind that I was into by the time I had finished the drive.

Right after the Grapevine (it's a real city, but you better believe my family makes jokes about things they heard in that area at every possible opportunity), there was an accident on the 5 which was actually cleared by the time I got there.  But because the accident occurred about 10 miles before a construction site, I was in stop and go traffic on a highway (with a speed limit of 70 mph, mind you) for one and a half hours.

Actually, this part wasn't that bad.  I spent the first half of the time being Ms. Grumpy-Car (my last name is Grumpy, and my husband's is car, but I'm sort of a feminist so I go with the hyphen), but then I decided that was stupid.  And since I discovered three cd's that I had forgotten about in Lolita (my car, who is now clean inside and kind of on the outside too), I decided it was time for a one-girl jam sesh.  Three minutes into that, a car full of 17-yr-old boys was next to me and decided I was hilarious.  So they started trying to attract my attention.  Which ended up with a few cat calls and kissy faces in my direction.  Which, you know, I will always take the ego boost.
But their mistake was to encourage me.  Because after they were safely out of sight, I decided to up the ante. There was like choreography and attitude in my ogjs (one-girl jam sesh, duh).  So I'm just doing my own thing and appreciating the fact that I can enjoy myself even when I am stuck in a billion (and I mean a billionnnn) traffic.  Then I realized the truck full of guys probably 5-10 years older than me on my left was taping me using their iphone.  Somewhere, there is probably a youtube video of my dance moves and insane vocal stylings titled something like "Girl stuck in traffic sings and dances in car"  or something else creative like that. When I saw them I was overcome with a fit of the giggles, which of course started the whole truck of guys in laughing.   At least I improved someone's traffic experience.

So yeah, traffic.  But as the hours wore on, my positive attitude was replaced with tiredness and loneliness (when did I turn into one of those girls who hates to be alone so much?) and the Dr. Pepper I had gotten at the gas station was almost all sparkling water and not very much of the syrup that makes it DP.  And I got sooo emotional.  It all just took it's toll.  I realized around 10 pm that normally I would be back at Le Stanford in my cozy bed by then and then around that time I came upon the second accident of the drive.

And it was a gnarly accident.  I'm pretty sure someone died based on the wreckage I saw, although I'm pretty sure I got there before the authorities did.  But I was so sucked dry from the drive, that I just started crying.  Like uncontrollably.  Ok, it was in control because I was still good to drive, but I just hated everything about that moment.  I don't really like crying, or most definitely admitting to crying, but it was just too much.  Then Green Eyes came on in my car and it made me feel sad in a good way and I listened to it about a billion thousand times.  Literally, 25 or more times.

Sorry for a long, wordy, complainy post, but you didn't have to read it if you didn't want to.  But there is hope.  Today is a new day, I am alive, and Lolita and I made it back to the Stans.

But I do have to make the drive one more time in then next 1.5 weeks, sooo.  If I have some sort of emotional breakdown around then, you'll know why.