in which the tropics seem to be a completely preferable option than this

Sometimes my job requires me to purchase software that will make my department’s life easier so they don’t charge into my office and brutally stuff me into a not-large enough box before shipping me off to some godforsaken place, like Sarah Palin’s house in Alaska. I know they’ve thought about it. I’ve seen the look in their eyes.

And that is how I found myself trudging up to Newark to get a first hand glimpse of new versions of Adobe software the folks in my department use every day. The Adobe people asked nicely if I wanted to attend and then expertly lured me in with the offer of breakfast, lunch, a day away from the office and the possibility of winning a new HP netbook. How could I say no?

Those that know me will raise their eyebrows at my willingness to drive to Newark. Not that Newark isn’t a perfectly lovely place to visit, but well, frankly some parts are about as appealing as strolling through the local landfill. But what puts me off the most is the actual effort of driving there. Per those nifty little online map sites, I am told that Newark is only an hour and ten minutes driving time from my front door. But what those handy online directions don’t take into consideration are all the other drivers going in the same direction at the same time on the same funnel of roads. I hate traffic with the white hot intensity of an imploding star and will drive a million miles out of my way to avoid sitting in a line of cars not moving for minutes on end. And that is exactly what the NJ Turnpike is like just about every day during peak rush hour. Just typing that last sentence gives me heartburn. NJ Turnpike…peak rush hours…need more Xanax.

The trip in yesterday was pretty easy, not so much stop and go as just go slowly, well below the posted speed limit. A rule of thumb when traveling north on any major NJ roadway along the state's eastern corridor during rush hour is to pad travel time by at least an hour. Two would be best, especially if being on time is critical, otherwise, all bets are off. The pace of traffic was fine mostly because there was constant movement towards my destination and I was happily listening to The Sex Lives of Cannibals, which is an extremely hilarious account of a guy who moved to a tiny South Pacific Atoll with his girlfriend, looking for paradise, and found more, and less, than what he envisioned. Either read the book or listen to the audio because I promise you will laugh and rethink that desire of moving to a tropical island in an effort to get away from it all. It ain’t all coconuts and surf apparently.

After finally acquiring a parking space in a lot that took credit card payments because I forgot to go to the bank and get real cash money, I just managed to slip into the hotel conference room, poured myself some desperately needed coffee, took a quick look at the offered breakfast selection and decided soggy bacon and reconstituted eggs were not all that appealing, I grabbed a front row seat, prepared to be amazed by the creative awesomeness of the Adobe people.

They make great stuff. I was completely thrilled with the capabilities of the new product and a bit ashamed to learn that some of the tools that are so very useful amazing already exist in the versions we have and I didn’t know about them. Management efficiency fail….sigh. But now do know and I can be all smart-like when I show everyone what I learned so my boss doesn’t think the day was a complete waste of time and my staff will think I am super amazing until the next time I volunteer them for a new project.

There were programs I don’t need for work but drooled over anyway and wondered how I could convince my husband that the super-duper-mega-wonderful package would be just the best investment ever and maybe justify the cost by telling him I was thinking about a career change and this would make me a pro! But somehow I doubt forking over that kind of cash for what would really just be a super nifty play toy for me is not his idea of prudent fiscal management.

And then it was over and time to drive home. In rush hour.

Since I make a concentrated effort to never be north of the Raritan river, and heading south at rush hour, BECAUSE I KNOW, I was not surprised at the heavy volume traffic I encountered as I headed toward the Turnpike. In the beginning I was patient as my car alternately stopped and inched forward, stopped, inched forward, and stopped again. After forty minutes had passed and I hadn’t traveled more than a half mile, I started to get a little cranky. I flipped off no less than four assholes who decided that they were too important to sit in the same traffic as everyone else and rode the shoulder until forced back into the lane, directly in front of me.

It took over an hour to travel less than 6 miles. My brain was imploding, my blood pressure spiking and the soothing voice of the audiobook, describing palm trees and tropical living, failed to lull me into a calm mindset and quell the rising tide of frustration and aggravation of sitting still more than I was moving. Did I mention that I really hate traffic?

The radio that I finally turned to in desperation to know WHY I AM NOT MOVING AT ALL NOW alerted me that there had been a terrible multiple car and truck accident** not far from where I was sitting and most of the Turnpike had been closed. Words like hours long back-up, alternate routes choked, secondary roads congested continued to bounce around the inside of my skull like pinballs.

CLOSED.

I will be stuck on this godforsaken stretch of highway leading to the Turnpike forever I told my husband when I called to deliver the news. My GPS tells me there are no alternate exits or detours available where I was currently trapped. If my GPS was not part of my phone, it might have gotten thrown off the bridge I had been sitting on when it told me that.

Two hours in and finally the mass of cars and trucks reached the Turnpike entrance, which looked like a ginormous vehicle storage area. People were out of their cars, stretching and chatting with their vehicular neighbor. We all knew this was bad and going to take a very long time to clear.

Then I spied the Turnpike North sign and decided that there are roads that lead away from this mess and I’m escaping to find them. I would drive to Ohio and back again before I sat there any longer. I swung my wheels to the left and prepared to zip out and over to the North ramp and find the longest most out of the way detour ever. And then some dipshit fuckhead in a roach coach pulled out in front of me, moved ahead 4 cars and stopped, blocking my way. Had I possessed any weapon at that moment I would have used it with lethal force. Damn the consequences. I could see my escape and this moron from the depths of headuphisassville just got in my way and stopped me cold. Just so he could inch his way back into the flow of STOPPED traffic a couple cars ahead of where he had been. Some people should have a pike shoved up their ass.

Once I got headed north, I tried to go west, but I think just about every other person in NJ thought about that as well and I soon found all routes choked with cars going absolutely no where. Heading north east again, because holy hell, every road in that vicinity wants you to go to NYC, I swear it does, I found a way that was still riddled with stop and go traffic, but it was the “and go” part that staved off my descent in total anxiety madness. At least I was moving. Needless to say, I drove down every pitted, rutted, barely paved road in Jersey City, made my way to Staten Island, because what’s a little detour through the Arthur Kill on the way home, sat in more traffic because there are more people per mile living in Staten Island than should be humanely legal, I finally got back into NJ and hit the parkway, where the rush hour traffic had thinned to normal crazy and the speed limit was possible.

What should have been a crawling hour and a half drive home from Newark during rush hour took FOUR AND A HALF HOURS.

And I didn’t even win the damn HP Netbook.

**In all seriousness, someone lost their life in the hideous eight vehicle accident that involved cars, a dump truck, several tractor trailers, a box truck and a pick-up truck. This I feel terribly sorry for and my greatest sympathy rests with the family who lost a loved one. Let’s all be safer drivers, okay? Traffic may suck huge hairy moose balls, but getting home in one piece is the main goal. Getting there quickly? Ain’t so terribly important.