Short version - It took me 2 and half hours to get to work this morning - a commute which normally takes one hour fifteen minutes.
Long version - It was hell with gas fumes. First there was the accident at 611 and Old Welsh Road. That is the back way I take to get to the PA Turnpike. Geo called me at 6:45 with that little tidbit of info.
"You might not want to go that way this morning since we all know how drivers from Philly are around accidents."
Oh too true. In a city where sirens and accidents are about as common as soft pretzels and rabid sports fans, we Philadelphians just love rubbernecking. Any accident is an immediate invite to go from 55 MPH to 5 MPH in .07 seconds. It could be a bumper kiss and we have to slow down to see if there is any blood or gore. For the love of all that is sacred, it's a friggin accident! You can't swing a dead cat around this city without hitting a possible accident site. It's not like Jessica Simpson or Brad Pitt is walking naked down the street! That is a rubbernecking moment!
Rearranging the morning drive, I went up Route One to get on the Turnpike. I'm not even five miles into the drive when I hear the words "mess", "update", and "turnpike" on the radio. I was nowhere near the turnpike on-ramp and I couldn't slam a bitch to go back the other way. I was stuck in my lane, I have my 2 year old in the backseat, I was about to go sit in traffic for Heaven knew how long, and there wasn't a thing I could do.
Then came the news on the twos.
Not only was there an accident on the turnpike at the Norristown interchange, it involved a motorcycle and there was a medivac helicopter en route to pick up the motorcycle driver. THAT is a rubberneck worthy accident. And all of it was on the westbound side ... MY SIDE. Wheeeeee!! I was more screwed than a drunk cheerleader at football kegger.
I got out the iPod, plugged in the FM transmitter, and clicked my DMB 75 song mix into shuffle. Scary part was I feared going through the whole set before I got to work.
How's the baby at this point? Completely unconscious in the backseat. She had the rat in one hand and a balloon clutched in the other. She insisted on taking to school this balloon she got yesterday at the Dollar General just for being a cute little kid. She squealed and squeaked with joy over this stupid balloon. Heck, it makes her happy and it was free - no complaints. And there she was, snoring like a buzzsaw with her little purple balloon.
I wish I had a buzzsaw to cut through the traffic. It was pure stop and go from Route One all the way to the accident site.
But wait, here's the funny part. There was another accident in the same location and this time it was on the eastbound side. Not one. Not two. Three mothereffin tractor trailers were involved. With liquid spillage. Of diesel. And gas. And milk. In a cattle chute. With no shoulder. The traffic on the eastbound side was literally jammed to a halt. No one, I mean NO ONE, could get by - not even the wrecker trucks to get the damn accident out of the chute. Guar-an-teed the westbound side was gonna rubberneck on this one. My heart truly went out to anyone sitting behind that mess (I had been there before). Okay, it wasn't funny.
I jumped off the PA Tpke and took the back roads the rest of the way to the baby's school.
By the time I made it to the school, the Dinks woke up - all bright eyed and bushy tailed! Almost two hours of naptime brought to her courtesy of the PA Turnpike.
And I only listened to eight songs of my DMB mix.