DRIVE VS. FLY

Someone, probably my husband, sent me a link to this dude's web/blog. And with a last name of "Snider," what else could you do beside make (and publish) snide remarks?

And although I'd make the argument that your name helps make you who you are, but I've been proven wrong way too many times (Joy, Angel, Jayne, Bruce) to try that dance again.

You make what you want out of your life, regardless of the label your parents stuck you with - look at Engelbert Humperdinck (who was actually born as Arnold George Dorsey in India - and next time you are in a game of trivia, use this information to your advantage... no charge).

But some thing that this guy wrote.... well, at least it gave me a topic for tonight.

The first part I do kinda agree with (again, this is here, I am simply parroting what he wrote) - "Traveling is an ordeal. I don't know why anyone ever goes anywhere. Our ancestors had the right idea: live your entire life in the village where you were born, and if you venture out on a trek, assume you're going to freeze to death, get lost, or be attacked by ring wraiths. "

Especially the part about being attacked by ring wraiths.

But his next paragraph... "Air travel, which is supposed to be the fastest and most convenient method of transportation, is actually the most arduous. Even when things go smoothly, it's exhausting. Our bodies simply weren't designed to be shoved into giant metal cylinders and hurtled through the air at several hundred miles per hour. They definitely weren't designed to withstand baggage fees. "

Okay, well, that the last sentence is true.

But has this guy ever driven a real distance? I love driving, and I hate flying... but I have also driven from Kalamazoo, Michigan to Torrence, California.

Non-stop.

With a puppy.

Now, I'll admit this might have been a once-in-a-lifetime trip - I mean, how often do you get to:

- Deal with hard, driving rain the entire trip, completely destroying your plans to camp-out several nights on the road (thus saving on motel costs and reinforcing your self-image as an environmentally-aware-and-Mother-Earth-type of the brave 70's woman) and forcing you to drive about 2,000 miles with only intermediate gas and restroom breaks every 4-6 hours

- Getting to know a complete stranger who responded to your note on a shared-ride-bulletin board at Western Michigan University but of whom you know nothing more about than she needs to get to Las Vegas as quickly as possible. Las Vegas. 'Quickly'. Hmm.

- Handle a six-week old mutt puppy who had just left his mother (one of the few times I could use the word 'bitch' and actually be politically correct) and his fellow litter-mates to drive in a car for three days straight, 24 hours on the road (times 3 makes, what, 72 hours?)

- Drop off your passenger (and the puppy) in Las Vegas, sleep for two hours in the car, and then drive five hours to get to Torrance California

Now, honestly, would it be in any way possible to have this kind of adventure if you had been stuffed into a commercial jet for three hours?

NO.

Which is why I feel flying over lengthy distances is perhaps worth the pain and torture of waiting perhaps an hour at the airport, going through 15 minutes of the security check, watching either a grade-B movie or three episodes of a television series, and actually having to WAIT 5-10 minutes for your luggage to arrive after you have raced from the gate to the baggage arena.

Anyone out there wanna express their opinion?

CONFESSIONS OF A RECKLESS DRIVER

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been, well, about 38 years since I last attended confession - one of my best friends in fourth and fifth grade was Catholic. And I just loved all the candles, and the Mass - the Latin was so pretty, this was back when Mass was just in Latin, not in English...

Oh... wait, what? Oh, my confession. Well, okay, this it.

Driver’s education was, for me, an exercise in pure boredom. I had been driving for several years already, and while a few of the legalities were new to me (why is passing on the right illegal when sometimes it's the only way to get around an idiot driver?), most of it was fairly old hat.

Oh, no, that's not my sin.

Somehow the one rule that amazed, stunned and remained with me was FLASHING RED LIGHTS ON A SCHOOL BUS. I never rode a school bus actually to school, just for field trips. And growing up, I never once remember seeing a bus have the whole flashing red lights thing going on.

But where I live now, there is only one two-lane highway connecting Sierra Vista with Palominas, Hereford and Bisbee. So I see school buses with red flashing lights ALL THE TIME.

And traffic obediently slows down, stops, and patiently waits until the flashing red lights are turned off and the school begins to drive again.

But today. Oh, today, Father, I have sinned.

I'm in Hawaii, which exists on an entirely difference universe of aloha shirts for business wear, muumuus for church wear, leis for any reason at all, and people always riding in the back of pickup trucks.

And generally you can spot the Mainland drivers anywhere - they are the ones flying through, rapidly changing lanes, hitting all the open spots and then just as rapidly slamming on their brakes when everything on the highways comes to an abrupt halt.

Otherwise, most local drivers are doing the speed limit; they know they'll get where they are going, so why rush to get there early?
Yes, Father, I'm getting to that.
But as I pull out of the local shopping area (everything to sustain life; a grocery store, a pharmacy, ice cream, Starbucks, dry cleaning and Blockbuster) onto the main thoroughfare, there is a bus WITH RED FLASHING LIGHTS ON.

Without even any conscience thought, I hit my brakes and come to a complete stop.

Now, granted, this thoroughfare is 'divided', but this school bus is definitely on MY side, it has SCHOOL CHILDREN getting off of it, and THE RED FLASHING LIGHTS ARE ON.

But I am the only car stopping. Everyone else is just cruising by, most about forty miles over the speed limit.

And Father, I let myself be swayed by the dark side of the force, and I DROVE BY THE BUS WITH THE RED FLASHING LIGHTS ON.

What should my penance be? Serve as a school crossing guard for the rest of my life? Go into epileptic spasms every time I see a red flashing light?

Wait a minute, you mean I have to TO DRIVE A SCHOOL BUS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?!?

Forget it, Father. Just send me straight to hell. That'll be easier.