Frank’s Commute
Uribag – there when you need us.
Cresting the overpass he saw in front of him a wall and then a river of brake lights halting all six northbound lanes as far as one could see. Not yet at a complete dead stop but the slushy winter conditions promised a very slow morning commute.
Eva, his 9 year old daughter had given him a gift certificate for his birthday. A special flavour 20 ounce latte she insisted he try so on the way to her school they picked one up before dropping her off.
Sipping his coffee and thinking of his daughters love helped ease any anxiety or stress about today’s commute in the slush and snow: but then the traffic stopped.
Fifteen minutes later Frank’s patience was running out as fast as his coffee when his bladder signalled necessity, not emergency, but necessity. He ignored it, drank the last of his coffee and started looking for an exit lane, but the traffic just was not moving. There was no way out.
Eventually the problem at hand had to be dealt with, necessity had morphed to emergency so with enormous embarrassment he took the empty 20 ounce coffee cup, placed it between his legs on the floor, lowered his seat and.
Twenty minutes later the driver behind him admitted to the police that she was texting her boss when she accelerated into the back of his
car.
His head hit the headrest, the airbag did not deploy and the steering wheel did prevent his hand and cup from rising skyward. Instead it deposited it’s warm contents on his lap and the heated drivers seat.
Uribag – there when you need us.
