MY LIFE AS A COMMUTER...PART 2

For Every Action, There Is An Equal and Opposite Reaction

If you’ve been keeping up on my blog posts, you will have discovered by now I am not a shy person.  Interacting with people is what I do all day at work, and I truly enjoy all my social outlets as well.  I like meeting and talking to new people--it’s usually a very positive and pleasant experience...unless it’s on the road.  This blog post could be a mile long given I have quite an assortment of stories, so I have chosen a few that you may find interesting. 

When I was doing a lot of on-line dating (that has stopped some time ago now and those stories will be in my future published book), I had affectionate little nick names for all of my dates, mainly because each one was a disaster.  The names I chose accurately described the person and/or their personality or character trait, so when I name the next potential-date by-driving guy “The Nose Picker”...you can guess why.  Everything seems to happen on Granville Street for me, so, there I was, driving up Granville to work one morning, and whilst at one of the lights, a guy pulls up to the right of me.  We look at each other, and he’s super cute, so I smile, he smiles and we did this at the next two lights, with the last smiling encounter ending in him signaling for me to pull over so he can give me his number.  So I’m thinking...mmm...middle of rush hour on a busy street, should be ok.  He ends up pulling in behind me thanks to the bus, and all it took was one look in the rear view and I saw the pick.  He was in there full throttle, and all I could do was throw my hands up and shout “Nooooo!”.  How was it possible that my on-line dating life was appearing in my Monday morning commute?  Eek.  Needless to say, I did not stop to get the picker’s number.

Then there was the UPS guy.  I had skipped lunch one day and stopped into Meinhardt Foods to pick up a few things, and before I headed down Granville towards home, I opened a bag of organic corn chips and was eating them along the way to satisfy my hunger.  I was driving behind a big UPS truck with a driver who thought he was in a sports car--I watched him switch in and out of the lanes with the truck swaying back and forth, looking like it was going to topple each time.  We get up to King Edward, and he makes eye contact with me in his side-view mirror so I take the opportunity to point at him, give him the “L” (for Loser) and then hold my hands out to imitate him driving crazily.  The light turns green and 2 minutes later we’re now at 41st, and he’s still in front of me.  He then makes eye contact again, and gestures at me with the “L”, and then over-does an imitation of me eating my corn chips.  Well, I flew into a fury but then burst out laughing, because it was quite funny--I was really plowing those things back.  Anyway, we get up to the next light at 49th and now I’m to the right of him, and he has no right door on the truck and my window is down, so he shouts at me, “Hey, I’m pretty funny, aren’t I?  What do you say we go out sometime?”  I just wasn’t feeling it, so I thanked him for making me look like an oinky pig and sped off.

I’ve had many interactions with Taxi drivers because I prefer the right lane.  Please don’t get me wrong--I am not an advocate for unsafe, aggressive driving; however, I am very disappointed in taxi drivers these days.  They’re just not like they used to be.  The right lane used to move fluently, without delay...now, it’s all clogged up with pokey cab drivers that are distracted on their phones.  

On a serious note, my biggest pet peeve while driving is seeing people NOT stop and pull over when an emergency vehicle is coming.  When I was younger, a friend of mine’s father was in a serious car accident, and because they could not get through the traffic thanks to people not yielding, he ended up dying before they reached the hospital (the paramedics confirmed he could have been saved it they weren’t delayed).  I have zero tolerance for people who disregard the fact that someone’s life may be at stake.  I’m a nice person with a happy disposition, but when I see that happen in front of me, the offender gets the pleasure of a full-on lecture from me.  Who the hell is teaching people how to drive today anyway?  Oh wait, I can answer that.

My friends had a good laugh at this, but I actually was going to apply to be a driving instructor at Young Drivers of Canada.  They wouldn’t take me part time (I have a full time job already), and I discovered they pay their full time instructors $26,000 per year...wow...that’s some high quality instruction.  

I’ve had a few interactions that I’m not proud of, but it’s always in the interest of safety (or is it?).  This one is for my friend Deb who is Chinese (well, she’s Chinese but not really).  I’ve had to use my limited Asian language skills* at times while driving given Vancouver has a large Asian population.  I was driving up Granville (see, everything happens on Granville), and there was a woman (who happen to be Chinese) driving behind me, literally a foot from my bumper.  I was certain if there were any unexpected stops she would go right into me.  So, I did a huge no-no.  I was the first car that the light at King Edward and Granville, I got out of my car, went up to her driver window, and knocked pleasantly on the window (with a smile).  She rolled it down, and I shouted “Stay the f--- away from my car” in the best Mandarin I could get out (there is no translation for the F word, so that was in English).  Well, the look of horror was priceless--she wasn’t expecting that, but she definitely understood me given she stayed at least three car lengths away from me during the rest of the drive.  *Limited Asian language skills = “Hello, how are you?” and “Stay the f--- away from my car."

Now, after all that has been said, please know that I have discovered the link to my somewhat assertive personality in my car directly to my previous commute, whereby I spent almost 3 hours a day in my car.  That is no longer.  I have moved on to a healthier work environment and a shorter commute resulting in a more sane experience in my vehicle.  This is for the good of everyone, meaning, I’m not the lunatic anymore that I have portrayed myself to be.  I am quite calm and if something happens whereby I am being shouted at for some reason, I just smile and wave.  That seems to throw people into a rage actually, but I know that I can carry on to enjoy my day sans high blood pressure.

The last installment of my Life As A Commuter blog posts is Part 3, Denise’s Driving Survival Tips...stay tuned!

MY LIFE AS A COMMUTER...PART 1

The Things I Have Seen...And What People Have Seen From Me

It’s been a long time coming for me to write about commuting.  What a surprise that I now have the time to write about it given that I actually don’t have a lengthy commute anymore.

It’s amazing what you see on the road--what people do in their vehicles, how they drive, and their reactions to outside stimuli, like me.  I put in 13 years of commuting from Steveston to West Vancouver and back again each day--crossing 5 bridges and almost losing my insanity by the end of it (turned out it was actually where I was spending my day that almost cost me my sanity).  Writing about my commuting adventures is probably more worthy than one simple blog post given there is such a plethora of material, hence the reason why I’ve split the subject into three parts and a possible on-going feature from time to time.  The abundance of stories are not just from commuting to and from work either--I just seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in my car.  It makes me happy to be the designated driver for my friends so I know they get home safely and I always offer to drive if there is a choice.  The conclusion is that I really enjoy driving--either that or I have some serious control issues or perhaps it’s a combination of both.  And if you consider that I aspire to drive NASCAR or a reasonable facsimile someday, then voila, you are now a little bit closer to understanding how I feel behind the wheel.

Comedians have played this over and over but it’s true--people really do believe that they are in some kind of invisible bubble when they are in their car.  This is what I want to say to the people who are in the bubble: “You know, I can see you in there--I can see you picking your nose and wiping it on the upholstery,” or, “Oh there was no time to shave this morning so you’re doing it in your car where all the little hairs can fall on to your business suit--isn’t that hygienic.”  And while I am busy grossing out (yes, I’m an 80‘s girl), I’m watching these people weave all over the road because god forbid you could shove your finger straight up your nose and still drive in your lane at same time.  

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have done a ridiculous amount of weird stuff in my car too, but that’s with knowing full well that everyone can see me.  I’ve stopped at a light and put lipstick/mascara/eyeliner on--perfectly normal.  I’ve eaten bananas in my car and have unintentionally almost caused some serious car accidents as a result of making eye contact with the other drivers (typically male)--I’ve stopped doing that now.  I always dance as much as one can dance in their car.  I like to sing loudly, and I like to sing to other drivers at times.  I also like to air guitar some of my heavy metal when the mood should strike (like Iron Maiden or Slayer for example).  I have had to put deodorant on in my car once but that was an isolated incident, but again, I was fully aware I was being watched.  I have changed outfits, acted out Shakespeare, and learned other languages like French and Italian--all while driving in my car.

I’m sure you’re wondering what kind of driver I am now.  There is one very good friend of mine in particular, Lisa, who will dispute what I am about to write to her dying day because she happened to witness a mixology of incidents while I was driving her home one night.  I am an excellent driver--not one accident in my 26 years of driving.  And yes, that evening I was with Lisa, I almost mowed down a pedestrian (with a baby carriage) but she had no reflective decals on her at all (she did happened to be in a crosswalk, but that’s beside the point).  Then I think there was some guy on his bike, again, in the dark with no reflective wear...and you get the gist.  

Another time my good friend Sheral was driving with me down Bellevue in West Vancouver and out of nowhere, some woman just decided to cross the road (NOT at a crosswalk) and I just waved her back to the sidewalk, shouted to her “go back, go back” and stepped on the gas--she went back alright. And if I don’t like you and you are in front of my car, just ask my daughter’s ex-principal at her old elementary school what that’s like.  She was horrible to my daughter (my daughter is autistic) so I didn’t see the harm in almost running this woman over in the school parking lot.  Ah, there’s nothing like shoving it in neutral, revving the engine, turning on Judas Priest’s “You Got Another Thing Coming”, slamming it into gear and letting it rip--nobody messes with my girl (I’ll ask my friend Jody to back me on that one). 

I openly admit I don’t particularly care for pedestrians which is why I plead my case about living in London, England some day.  I would be perfect there considering pedestrians would think twice about walking out in front of moving vehicles.  The drivers in London are equally as crazy as me and of course driving on the other side of the road and being on the other side of the car would add a whole new component to my already interesting driving repertoire.  

It’s funny--I always ask for feedback and comments on my blog...I will say I’m a little nervous on this one.  Maybe you’re the person whose been the unlucky one driving in front of me, or you have been on the receiving end of me shouting driving tips at you (recently I have been doing this in Italian).  All I ask, is please be gentle. 

In Part 2, stay tuned for more about what I have witnessed while on the road, those all-too-famous interactions I’ve had with other drivers, and lastly, in Part 3, some handy tips from me while driving in Vancouver.  

Krazy Glue, Krazy Glue, Where Art Thou Krazy Glue?

I can honestly say I don’t know what I would do without Krazy Glue.  It’s been a staple in my home for a number of years now.  It’s marketed as being able to fix just about anything and I can completely and utterly corroborate that.  Of course, I’ve expanded its benefits beyond traditional usage, but hey, who hasn’t?  A couple of incidents come to mind when I think of the relationship I have had with Krazy Glue over the years...

The first one had to do with my nine iron--I’ve been playing golf for over 20 years now and absolutely love it.  I’ve had the same clubs in my bag for probably too long, but regardless, they still do the trick.  I was in the parking lot at one of my favourite golf courses in Richmond, Country Meadows, and as I was getting my clubs out of the trunk of my old Neon, I remembered that the last time I golfed, the head of my nine iron flew off from the shaft and just about killed someone.  Fortunately, I had my handy tube of Krazy Glue in the glovebox, and thought it would be the perfect time to fix the iron while I was waiting for my Mom to arrive.  

The main issue with Krazy Glue “mistakes” have to do with the fact that the glue is clear when it comes out the tube, so unless you are paying careful attention and watching how much of the glue is coming out and where it is actually going (which I’m sure most of the population does), you could have a major problem, like the one I was about to have.  I was able to easily get plenty of glue out to secure the head of the club to the shaft but didn’t realize that some of the glue had seeped out onto my hand and before I knew it, the club was stuck to my hand.  I then went to put the club down on the carpeted trunk, but the glue was still seeping out of the club head, which then glued the club to the trunk with my hand attached to it.  My Mom then drove up and came over to my car, and because my Mom knows me so well, she was not surprised in the least that I managed to glue myself to my car.  Fortunately for me, she had a big bottle of hand sanitizer, which, thanks to the alcohol content, was able to free me from my precarious position.

Another major Krazy Glue incident involved a Biore strip.  The ladies will remember these, but for those fellas out there, Biore strips were invented back in the 80’s to pull all those lovely blackheads out of your nose--I actually remember them being quite effective.  Fast-forward 20 years, I decided one night to slap one of those strips on my nose, being very, very careful not to press around my nose piercing (a winding little piece of metal inside my nose with a cute, feminine little pretend diamond on the outside).  You’re suppose to leave the strips on for about 20 minutes, but I went about my business, completely forgetting about the strip and roughly 2 hours later, I scratched my nose and went, “Oh sh*t, the Biore strip!”.  Let’s just say you don’t want those things attached to your nose for longer than they say.  I had to ever so slowly peel it off with tons of water and plenty of screaming.  It left a huge red welt on my nose, and when I looked a little closer, I realized that it also pulled out the little diamond in my piercing.  So, down on the bathroom floor I went to find THE smallest thing that I have ever had to find on a bathroom floor.

After about 10 minutes crawling around next to my cat Dexter, who just wanted to head-butt me over and over, I found it!  The question now was how to get that tiny little thing back into the claw from whence it came.  And, like the answer to many of my “fix it” questions, the answer was...yes, you guessed it, Krazy Glue!

Now, I know what you’re thinking--who in their right mind would use Krazy Glue to adhere something so delicate to something that is attached to a body part.  Incidentally, I don’t recall ever saying I have ever been in my right mind.  Out came the tweezers and the glue, and again, I can’t seem to judge clear substances coming out of a tube, so before I knew it, I had way too much glue in the claw of my piercing, but I quickly shoved the little stone in and it held!  I dabbed away the excess glue with extreme haste, and voila!  My problem was solved (and I was extremely proud of myself)--until the next morning.

I woke up (thank god it was a Saturday) to a funny, stiff feeling around my nose.  One look in the mirror and I could see that my piercing was clearly glued completely to my nose.  Oh, and the red welt from the damn Biore strip was still clearly visible as well.  Oh, and it hurt, A LOT.

There was only one guy that I could get to help me--my piercing guy, Elwood.  He had a shop in Richmond at the time, and he was “the guy” when it came to putting holes into flesh, so I was hoping he could fix my little situation.  I was a tad embarrassed not because of what I had done, but rather, I had a HUGE crush on him so I was really looking forward to showing him what an idiot I was...not.  I got to the shop and once I sheepishly told him what I had done, he managed to cart everyone who worked there into the room.  Maybe it was to help, maybe it was to suggest what to do?  No...it was to have a good laugh because who on earth would ever put Krazy Glue anywhere near their face?  He was able to free me from my gilded Krazy Glue cage, and as I walked out of the shop with the laughter now far behind me, I too thought of the humour in the situation.  

To this day, Krazy Glue remains and always will remain my go-to fix-all solution.  Are people frightened when I pull out that little tube of dreamy gluey heaven given my history?  Yes, they are.  Will I carry on using it for ever and ever, no matter what I get stuck to or what sticks to me?  Most definitely!