I was so excited about this trip out, I spent two weeks getting ready for it. My home time is always busy, but this time was craziness. I even went to the dentist to have a tooth worked on that was acting like it might make me miserable the minute we were out in the middle of nowhere. I learned the minute we hit elevation, the best laid plans don’t assure a good trip. The tooth cracked when we got to about 6,000 feet, and I’m fairly certain it’s exacting revenge on me for having it drilled on. I’ve apologized, begged and cried, but the damn thing is a monster, and the $350 I dropped on getting it fixed may as well have been kindling. I’m aggravated by this, and this frame of mind has caused me to notice a few other things that aggravate me.
I’ve written before about my dislike of automatic bathrooms. I’m certain they were all designed by demons straight from hell. Apparently, these little imps delight in watching someone wave their hands in front of an auto-dispense paper towel machine like they’re performing some kind of magic spell. Then, they roll on the floor laughing when the machine dispenses a paper towel thin enough to see through, and only big enough to dry one finger off. It’s even funnier to them when the person needing a towel has just brushed her teeth and so has toothpaste foam all over her lips, waving her hands around in front of a bunch of people she doesn’t know. I’ve frightened children with my frantic hand-waving and foamy face, it’s awful.
Here’s a tip. If you’re ever in need of a 34-hour reset, just have dispatch send you on over to Costco for a live unload. I’ve seen drivers sitting in the bay with their hands locked on to the steering wheel because they’ve sat and waited so long their fingernails have grown completely around it. Costco will schedule 9,000 trucks at 6 a.m., when they have three bays to put them in. What is the logic in this? Can someone please tell me why the schedulers are not required to be able to count? I have absolutely no idea how they get people to continue delivering there. It’s a three-day ordeal — if you’re headed that way, pack a sandwich. The last time we were at Costco for a live unload, we missed our son’s 14th and 15th birthdays. (This also may be a slight exaggeration.)
One last thing. I would like to extend a personal invitation to hell for the idiots who park on the curb in front of marked spaces at truck stops. Apparently, they have no understanding of physics or spatial awareness. Nothing is worse than waking up and being on a tight schedule, only to find a diptard parked on the curb in front of you, making it almost impossible to get out of your space. What’s even better is when these asses of monkeys park on the curb to avoid having to back in, and block open, legal spaces that people who actually know how to drive could use. I make a point to write, “I am King of the Dumbasses” in huge letters in the dirt on their trailers whenever I get an opportunity. (This is not an exaggeration. If you see King of the Dumbasses on the road, flip ’em off for me.)
