So long my dears...
Well, I have survived the great downpour of 2003. My boss was really nice and let me leave really early yesterday during a break in the rain. I drove down the street, got to a stop sign, and suddenly froze. There was a small lake in front of me. I drive a small car, so I wasn’t entirely thrilled about my chances of making it through. I noticed that there were cars coming up behind me, so I figured I’d do the smart thing. I put my car in reverse. Now, normally, that would signify “Hey!!!! Don’t pull up behind me because I don’t want to go this way! I will get stuck!” For the truck and the 18 wheeler coming up, it meant exactly that. They both pulled into the right lane and turned left in front of me. Rock on, Mr. Truck Driver. Great. Only one more car and I can reverse out of this drowning pool. Um, no such luck. The third car pulled up right behind me. And when I say car, I’m not giving the full idea. Hummer. An asshole in a Hummer pulled up behind my little Civic with the “I can’t get through this” lights on. Prick. I had no choice. I plowed on. After going agaist my better judgement and getting through one more small lake, I did some parking lot weaving to get to the main road. I finally got on the highway and thought it would be smooth sailing.
Wrong.
I start going up the overpass from one highway to the next, and then everything was at a stand still. I drive a standard car, so stop and go traffic on a steep incline is never fun. To make matters worse, just as I looked down at my gas guage to reassure myself that I had enough gas for this, the light went on. Oh sweet mother of fuck. If I run out of gas, I won’t even be able to get my car off the road, since I can’t push it up the incline. Air conditioner, off. Radio, off. Cell phone, glued to ear. Only Best Friend could really appreciate this moment, so I called her. The only other time in my life I nearly ran out of gas was with her. We were on that bridge in Louisiana. You know, the 34 mile long one. The longest bridge in the world. In stop and go traffic. There are no exits for 34 miles, and 3 miles onto the bridge my light went on. So I called her and we had a good laugh. She always makes me feel better. She talked me all the way to Gordon’s house. Once I got back on level ground, I discovered I had plenty of gas to get home with, it was the angle fucking up my gas guage. Unfortunately it took me an hour and forty minutes to get from my office to my man’s. It usually takes me 35 minutes to get from work to my house. Yuck.
So later, when Gordon got home, we took his truck to go rescue Soggy Sophie. Gordon wanted to take my little car. He didn’t believe me when I said my parking lot would be flooded, because nowhere around us had high water. I finally won and we took the truck. He’s never been so glad he listened to me. The water was so high he had to park way away from my apartment. And me, in my favorite fuck-me boots (read: knee high, black and shiny) and my brand new pants went to get the dog. I felt like that Russian dancer in The Nutcracker. I had my pants all tucked in to the top of my boots. The water was about mid to three quarters up my shin. I got all the way to the door only to find I didn’t have my keys. This was really not my day. Swim back, get Gordon’s keys. Side stroke myself (quit giggling) right back to the door. Get Sophie. Okay, now here’s the tricky part. I had to carry Sophie back to the car. So here I am, with my bag of clothes for work today in my sopping wet clothes from work yesterday, carrying a 40 pound dog across Lake Kickinmyass. Phew. Made it.
All turned out well in the end, but I think I’ve ruined my boots forever. So if we could just have a moment of silence for the greatest boots ever… Please bow your head and join me in saying “So long.”
In Loving Memory
Fuck Me Boots
December 2002 - November 2003