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icarusSo dad decided 7:30am on my first day of school was a good time to have a surprise conference call.
So, I kind of slept after we got off the phone, but not really... weird dreams, half awake, half asleep. Finally gave up and got some food. Decided to leave an hour early for school, give myself some recon time.
Should've left two hours early.
There's a haze that comes about from semi-sleep. A sonombulance that hangs like a cloud layer over the rest of the day.
I went to the gas station and filled up the tank, thank goodness.
Then I headed out. Google maps says that the non-toll route I chose would take an hour and eleven minutes. That's because, by leaving early, I'd miss rush hour. The route takes me in to DC to the Beltway, I-495, a road that, just like it sounds, circles the city like a belt. That belt starts in Maryland, circles around to the south to the Andrews Air Force Base, then comes through some of the most overdeveloped areas of Northern Virginia.
That route only has me on the Beltway for a little while though, before I grab I-95 towards Baltimore. (Towards the south, I-95 melds with the Beltway all the way to Virginia, though I didn't know that.) At Baltimore, I'd hit another Beltway, I-695, which circles that city. I'd be getting there about three, three-fifteen, missing rush hour there as well.
Now I've gone to Baltimore about a half dozen times, four of them taking this route. I can't do it in my sleep, but I'm pretty familiar.
In that sleepy haze, on a gray, rainy day, I hit the Beltway. Traffic was a little heavier than I expected because of the rain, but I made good time. I passed the gleaming white Mormon Church. Passed Colesville Road where Kyle used to live. And waited for where the Beltway splits and the one side spills over into I-95.
I drove and drove down the featureless flat landscape of the Beltway, windshield wipers wiping. I was blinking and tired, stuck behind a truck. Had to crane my neck for road signs.
Finally, after a while, it seemed I should've reached the I-95 spill. I frowned. A while ago. I craned around for road signs (the truck was gone) and the signage clearly said I-495 and there were signs for I-95 south. So I-95 north should be somewhere around here, soon.
I kept going.
That's when I saw the Andrew's Air Force base water tower. And I knew two things:
One: I was south of DC, almost to Virginia.
Two: I had no clue how to get off the Beltway without getting horribly lost. All around me was a strange tangle of bridges and roadways that didn't seem to follow any predictable pattern.
I had no choice. I had to go all the way around DC. I checked the clock. It was three. I could still make it.
By three fifteen I hit Northern Virginia, praying that I'd miss their rush hour.
I came to a complete drain clog of traffic. Crawling at ten-twenty mph, I saw the clock tick up to three thirty as I dragged through that tiny, five-mile stretch.
By three thirty-eight I'd escaped. And saw...
... the gleaming white Mormon Church again.
I was back where I started. And I got to look at it for a while, too, because now it was approaching four o'clock. On the Beltway. There was an accident. Traffic slowed through Colesville Road.
My class was in half an hour and I hadn't even left DC.
And that's when I saw what I'd done: I-95.
Logic states that if you're going north to I-95, you'll be sure to be in the left-hand lanes when the Beltway splits, because north is on your left-hand side. Logic would be wrong. You have to be in the two right-hand lanes towards the south to go north.
There was clear signage. I'd done it several times.
I was just ... tired. And probably followed that truck right past the split.
I started calculating how late I was going to be for my first day of school. Maybe ... fifteen minutes? I practiced my apologies. And I cursed the name of the person who woke me at 7:30am for a conference call, grinding my teeth. Should've said no. But when did I have the opportunity? There'd been a command decision in my absence. I *did* say no. Should've stuck to it, god-damned politeness....
Folks met a very unfriendly driver for that last stretch as I chewed on this thought. Didn't let people in. Nerves frayed after my second stretch of rush hour traffic. The clock ticked up to about twenty minutes late. I started to sweat.
Remember that Beltway around Baltimore?
I hit that at four thirty.
I-695 doesn't have the reputation of the DC Beltway. Doesn't have the same cachet, the shudder you elicit when you say "Beltway traffic" or "Northern Virginia." But it was my third rush hour of the day and the worst.
Forty-five minutes late, I finally rolled into my class at five-fifteen. Humiliated. I mumbled an apology and apologized again to the teacher at break. Tried to catch up but was completely wrong-footed and rattled. She assured me I hadn't missed much.
My friend in Iceland says of the ordeal: "Fall er fararheill." Translation: "It's good luck to start a journey by falling over."
I hope so.
End note: My dad read this and laughed and laughed. No sympathy, I tell ya.
So, I kind of slept after we got off the phone, but not really... weird dreams, half awake, half asleep. Finally gave up and got some food. Decided to leave an hour early for school, give myself some recon time.
Should've left two hours early.
There's a haze that comes about from semi-sleep. A sonombulance that hangs like a cloud layer over the rest of the day.
I went to the gas station and filled up the tank, thank goodness.
Then I headed out. Google maps says that the non-toll route I chose would take an hour and eleven minutes. That's because, by leaving early, I'd miss rush hour. The route takes me in to DC to the Beltway, I-495, a road that, just like it sounds, circles the city like a belt. That belt starts in Maryland, circles around to the south to the Andrews Air Force Base, then comes through some of the most overdeveloped areas of Northern Virginia.
That route only has me on the Beltway for a little while though, before I grab I-95 towards Baltimore. (Towards the south, I-95 melds with the Beltway all the way to Virginia, though I didn't know that.) At Baltimore, I'd hit another Beltway, I-695, which circles that city. I'd be getting there about three, three-fifteen, missing rush hour there as well.
Now I've gone to Baltimore about a half dozen times, four of them taking this route. I can't do it in my sleep, but I'm pretty familiar.
In that sleepy haze, on a gray, rainy day, I hit the Beltway. Traffic was a little heavier than I expected because of the rain, but I made good time. I passed the gleaming white Mormon Church. Passed Colesville Road where Kyle used to live. And waited for where the Beltway splits and the one side spills over into I-95.
I drove and drove down the featureless flat landscape of the Beltway, windshield wipers wiping. I was blinking and tired, stuck behind a truck. Had to crane my neck for road signs.
Finally, after a while, it seemed I should've reached the I-95 spill. I frowned. A while ago. I craned around for road signs (the truck was gone) and the signage clearly said I-495 and there were signs for I-95 south. So I-95 north should be somewhere around here, soon.
I kept going.
That's when I saw the Andrew's Air Force base water tower. And I knew two things:
One: I was south of DC, almost to Virginia.
Two: I had no clue how to get off the Beltway without getting horribly lost. All around me was a strange tangle of bridges and roadways that didn't seem to follow any predictable pattern.
I had no choice. I had to go all the way around DC. I checked the clock. It was three. I could still make it.
By three fifteen I hit Northern Virginia, praying that I'd miss their rush hour.
I came to a complete drain clog of traffic. Crawling at ten-twenty mph, I saw the clock tick up to three thirty as I dragged through that tiny, five-mile stretch.
By three thirty-eight I'd escaped. And saw...
... the gleaming white Mormon Church again.
I was back where I started. And I got to look at it for a while, too, because now it was approaching four o'clock. On the Beltway. There was an accident. Traffic slowed through Colesville Road.
My class was in half an hour and I hadn't even left DC.
And that's when I saw what I'd done: I-95.
Logic states that if you're going north to I-95, you'll be sure to be in the left-hand lanes when the Beltway splits, because north is on your left-hand side. Logic would be wrong. You have to be in the two right-hand lanes towards the south to go north.
There was clear signage. I'd done it several times.
I was just ... tired. And probably followed that truck right past the split.
I started calculating how late I was going to be for my first day of school. Maybe ... fifteen minutes? I practiced my apologies. And I cursed the name of the person who woke me at 7:30am for a conference call, grinding my teeth. Should've said no. But when did I have the opportunity? There'd been a command decision in my absence. I *did* say no. Should've stuck to it, god-damned politeness....
Folks met a very unfriendly driver for that last stretch as I chewed on this thought. Didn't let people in. Nerves frayed after my second stretch of rush hour traffic. The clock ticked up to about twenty minutes late. I started to sweat.
Remember that Beltway around Baltimore?
I hit that at four thirty.
I-695 doesn't have the reputation of the DC Beltway. Doesn't have the same cachet, the shudder you elicit when you say "Beltway traffic" or "Northern Virginia." But it was my third rush hour of the day and the worst.
Forty-five minutes late, I finally rolled into my class at five-fifteen. Humiliated. I mumbled an apology and apologized again to the teacher at break. Tried to catch up but was completely wrong-footed and rattled. She assured me I hadn't missed much.
My friend in Iceland says of the ordeal: "Fall er fararheill." Translation: "It's good luck to start a journey by falling over."
I hope so.
End note: My dad read this and laughed and laughed. No sympathy, I tell ya.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-19 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-20 11:56 pm (UTC)Of course, tomorrow we're expecting 3-7" snow....