Alone Time

Everyone can appreciate a little alone time and I'm no different. Just last night I ordered myself some sushi (sin of all pregnant lady sins! Well okay, calling it sushi is being dramatic b/c it was a California roll) and left the house ALONE to pick up my luxurious meal. Since we live in Skippack, PA there is no such thing as "rush hour" and an eight car line would be considered "backup." Last night I was in our version of traffic and had to slow my roll to a maximum speed of 11 mph. In most circumstances, this would infuriate any normal driver. For me, however, I rolled down my windows, felt the 6pm breeze blow my hair to smithereens, and cranked a Pat Benetar song on the radio.

Glancing around from driver to driver I realized none of us were in the process of gesticulating, cursing, or otherwise throwing an adult-size tantrum. It was a good time to be alone for the lot of us. I imagined the gentleman in front of me as a single father who had just dropped off his son at a soccer game (soccer's big here) and was going to get a beer before heading back to practice to retrieve his son. Granted, this does not make him Father-of the-Year by any stretch, but he had that stale Malboro Man look about him and as long as the game took a couple of hours there's no harm in a small libation to pass the time. Regardless, this gentleman simply rolled his windows down as well and tapped his cigarette to the time of his Def Leopard jam. The woman behind me? She and what probably was her mother (they had the same high cheekbones) were engaged in a light-hearted conversation that brought smiles to both of them at different times. I love my rear-view mirrors.

So, a few minutes passed before any of us even realized we weren't moving and an impatient motorcyclist turned himself around awkardly and went back the way we came. Good riddence, you don't belong here with us Loners of the Open Road, Patient Timbers of this Asphalt Wood, Introspective Minds of Route 113. We, the people stuck behind a broken light, are happy to be here going zero miles an hour up the street for an undetermined length of time with nothing but the sun freckling through the trees to entertain us. Well that and "Finding Nemo," which was still playing on my son's DVD player in the back seat. So much for an unadulterated trip away from myself. The sushi was all mine though, in honor of my fellow Skippackian Traffikians.