Morning Commute

I’m driving down Foothill Expressway this morning, as I do most mornings on my way to work, in the ‘97 Civic I have maintained for 10+ years. It’s a pleasant drive lined with trees and bike lanes, winding along the backside of Stanford. I’m completely mellowed out. I mean, I’m a pretty laid back lady, but this morning the sun is shining, I’m listening to folk singer Brett Dennon, and my head isn’t cramped with stress. I roll up to a red light and watch a few cyclists whiz past me in their bright colored jerseys… when I look in my rear view mirror at the car behind me: silver BMW, driven by a blue toothed motor mouth. She’s bitching at someone on the phone, waving her hands in disbelief in that I can’t believe your so daft and ugly cold-hearted way. She’s so into her conversation that I cautiously keep watching her, in case her foot slips off the break and her Beamer kisses my car. It’s a huge complaint, whatever she’s carrying on about, full of emotion and disgust. She looks to her lap, aggressively puts on her sunglasses and lowers her visor, then opens her sunroof with the push of a button; her mouth doesn’t skip a beat. I imagine the person on the other end: maybe a moronic apprentice who mistakenly brought her decaf. Or maybe she’s just pissed at her disobedient dog and the dog trainer on the other end has to hear about his bogus credentials. I can almost read her lips…wait, there it is: “Are you fucking kidding me?!" She darts her head to the passenger seat but no one is there. She’s talking so fast. I mean, she’s really into it. I can’t help but laugh at the show. There’s something hilarious about seeing people talk to themselves so passionately, especially on this sun-drenched quiet morning.

Ever since California passed the hands-free law, I imagine there’s even more of these schizophrenic-like commuters, waving their hands in vain to a person they can’t see. I know you see them; maybe you’re one of them. I saw your cool new Bluetooth headset ;) After all, the business day starts in the car, not in the office, with conference calls on I-5 and appointment re-scheduling with the personal secretary or nanny. The woman behind me purses her lips and pauses just for a moment. She’s gotten herself all worked up, and over what? I can’t help but wonder how people can get so flustered in their daily routines. And why waste energy on such high volume complaints? But that’s me. Happy go lucky. Easy and breezy. Content to watch the birds and bikes as I travel the road.