In which my day sucked
Today has been pouring rain. I was on my way to work when suddenly my wiper blades froze mid-windshield on the FUCKING 405 FREEWAY and SHIT. I'm too short to hang my head out the window like the cartoons do so I get out of the 55 Freeway merge lane and sit between the two by the exit. Check my glovebox--no fucking fuses so I could try to replace the one for the bastards and see if that works. Cell phone--dead. FUCK EVERYTHING.
I have my hazard lights on and I continue up the 405 at about 20 miles an hour, pulling over twice more so I could read the overhead signs. I get off at the next exit, MacArthur Boulevard, by John Wayne (!!!) Airport. Still poking along, I manage to limp to a Chevron station after another pullover, a left turn, and a U-turn, all done in near blindness. Now, John is sleeping with the ringer off for the next several hours, and I doubt Jamie is available or willing to come all the way down here when I'm a big girl who can handle her own problems. So I figure I'll park the car, call a cab, get home to John's house so he can drive me back to my car later. To do this I need 1)an atm and 2)a payphone. Just the luck, the gas station has NEITHER. WTF??? And to boot I blubbered in front of the clerk because I had been sure I was going to be dead when someone zips arounds and rearends me or I run headfirst into a Mack grill during the turns or some shit. I I NEED AN ATM AND A PHONE, MY CAR'S WIPERS B-B-BROKE AND IT WAS REALLY NOT FUN AND HELP. At least he was nice about it.
So still in the pouring rain I drive to the Bank of America a couple doors down and use the ATM. At least THAT worked. I tried to park the car in a motel parking lot so no one would notice it but they were on to my oh-so-cleverness and had bars across the driveways. Assholes. So I park in the furthest corner of the bank parking lot (WISCONSIN PLATES NOT DISTINCTIVE OH NO) and walk back to the Chevron station. I buy a pack of gum and get the change for a $5 all in quarters. Walk back to the payphones down the street, first one broken. Second one occupied. Wait, wait, wait, cough, wait, shuffle, wait, try to keep water out of my eyes, wait. Finally the bitch is done and gets out of my way. Call a taxi, call work to say I broke down. The cab got there and was all impressed with my Disney clothes (THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS NOT ONLY DID I BREAK DOWN BUT I DID SO IN COSTUME. He introduces himself as Tom and tells horrible jokes and asks about Disneyland and school and hey he plays the guitar and gets drunk and wishes more cops were as nice and cute as me (HA) and what? Very nice guy but kinda creepy, give him $25 to cover a $18 fare and THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY DAY BETTER AND GETTING ME HOME IN ONE PIECE. Also, he commented on my accent. Blarg. And he gave me his business card. Tee hee.
Finally home, still soaked.
I have my hazard lights on and I continue up the 405 at about 20 miles an hour, pulling over twice more so I could read the overhead signs. I get off at the next exit, MacArthur Boulevard, by John Wayne (!!!) Airport. Still poking along, I manage to limp to a Chevron station after another pullover, a left turn, and a U-turn, all done in near blindness. Now, John is sleeping with the ringer off for the next several hours, and I doubt Jamie is available or willing to come all the way down here when I'm a big girl who can handle her own problems. So I figure I'll park the car, call a cab, get home to John's house so he can drive me back to my car later. To do this I need 1)an atm and 2)a payphone. Just the luck, the gas station has NEITHER. WTF??? And to boot I blubbered in front of the clerk because I had been sure I was going to be dead when someone zips arounds and rearends me or I run headfirst into a Mack grill during the turns or some shit. I I NEED AN ATM AND A PHONE, MY CAR'S WIPERS B-B-BROKE AND IT WAS REALLY NOT FUN AND HELP. At least he was nice about it.
So still in the pouring rain I drive to the Bank of America a couple doors down and use the ATM. At least THAT worked. I tried to park the car in a motel parking lot so no one would notice it but they were on to my oh-so-cleverness and had bars across the driveways. Assholes. So I park in the furthest corner of the bank parking lot (WISCONSIN PLATES NOT DISTINCTIVE OH NO) and walk back to the Chevron station. I buy a pack of gum and get the change for a $5 all in quarters. Walk back to the payphones down the street, first one broken. Second one occupied. Wait, wait, wait, cough, wait, shuffle, wait, try to keep water out of my eyes, wait. Finally the bitch is done and gets out of my way. Call a taxi, call work to say I broke down. The cab got there and was all impressed with my Disney clothes (THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS NOT ONLY DID I BREAK DOWN BUT I DID SO IN COSTUME. He introduces himself as Tom and tells horrible jokes and asks about Disneyland and school and hey he plays the guitar and gets drunk and wishes more cops were as nice and cute as me (HA) and what? Very nice guy but kinda creepy, give him $25 to cover a $18 fare and THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY DAY BETTER AND GETTING ME HOME IN ONE PIECE. Also, he commented on my accent. Blarg. And he gave me his business card. Tee hee.
Finally home, still soaked.