Sunday, May 01, 2005

Road Trips and Rendezvous

You got to be careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there. - Yogi Berra

I've officially had my first road trip of the season. And it was quite fun, if you totally subtract the awful rain, awful winds and awful wormy looking flowers that made our car look like the Vehicle of the Walking Dead. This weekend was my supposed, "Farewell Fiesta" aptly named because some of my darling girlfriends were bidding farewell to me, and also because when we did eat, we had a feast of it.

Things to cover: Road Meanderings, King Rat, Mr. Hotness

Road Meanderings:
Music is torture. You never really know how torturous music can be until you have to sit in a car for over an hour (which seems like eons) and listen to another's choice of music that drastically conflicts with your own. It is really true that one man's meat is another man's poison, the same could be said that "one man's music is another's torture." I have never heard so much punk rock in my life, and please, do anything else but make me have to endure that for a whole weekend again. Sitting in the backseat, trying to find lyrics from a genre that I only listen to in in passing, trying to connect with the loud bass guitar and drums. You cannot understand the utter tolerance that it took to grit my teeth and not say a word. After all, these are my girls, they are taking me for a weekend of fun, Fun, FUN! Surely I can bear punk rock all the way from Bmore to Alexandria....

Yeah right *roll eyes* I really must be applauded on my fortitude. I didn't say a word, I'm sure that my girls didn't know that each chord played by the guitarist sounded to me like nails upon chalkboard. In vain, I tried to distract myself, first with my cell phone, then to read a book, but nothing to steal me from the setting. Anyway, I busied myself with looking out the window, glancing at the people that we sped past.

How come driving towards the city on a Friday evening, most cars are full of solo women? I would like to imagine that each and every one of them is heading towards a weekend rendezvous, but of course, sadly enough that is not the case. Quick poll, when you are heading on the highway on a Friday night, around 7pm, where are you off to? Let's see how many partygoing pple we REALLY have out there.

Ok, and coming back, I noticed that most of the drivers where soccer dad's with their brood jammed in the back seat. Obviously each coming from a family outing of some sort, they drove carefully, placing the lives of their family first. So where are all the solo men and when do they get on the road?

King Rat:
The place, Adams Morgan, Alexandria, sitting in a car full of sexy independent women, waiting in a loooong line to get into the underground parking spot. And what do crazy sexy females do when they are bored out of their minds? They talk. We talked about everything under the sun, from the plans of the night, to the people passing us by. I know that we aren't supposed to talk about strangers...but puhlease, you all do it!

"OMG, look at that!" one of my friends noted. Without pause, all of us followed her pointing finger to across the alleyway, where King Rat scuttled across in all his glory. He was neither in a hurry nor scared of the lights and noise from people around, he hovered next to the garbage bin, just chilling and waiting for his consort. Enter Mrs. Rat...(at least I think it was a Mrs., unless rats have the probability of being gay!) Not that I'm scared of rats, but still, I wouldn't want one living in the alley where I threw away my trash, talkless of a relative brood. And you know they breed like crazy. Guess I wouldn't be tossing my garbage in that dumpster.

Mr. Hotness:
Ok, once in a while, a coterie of females will come across and stunning specimen of man, one which, no matter how large or small the number, we will all be able to sigh. It doesn't happen often, because well, we women are VERY picky, and so it's hard to find a guy that everyone can agree to say he's cute. Well, anyway, the gentleman of this distinguished title was actually met yesterday, around the same time that we met King Rat. See, we were all so busy rhapsodizing about the rat, until an SUV going in the opposite direction blocked our view.

Thud. Silence. Collective Breath. Sigh. "Heeeey!" we all said in provocative poses. Well, as provocative as you could get, after all, he could only see our heads. I sent him a lusty wink, and I saw my girlfriend send him an air kiss.
The driver, Mr. Hotness, with his chestnut shoulder length locks and gorgeous green eyes shot us a lazy smile, one that sent all our female pheromones dancing. He slowed his car past us, long enough for us to glimpse once again.....YUMMY.

So, Mr. Hotness, if you happen to be reading this, just know that the quartet of sexy single divas thought you a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. Big Ups!

1 comment:

Aunty Kathy said...

Tos, Darling, this blog is a great entertaining read! I loved it. The type-o's grated slightly, but that's probably just the "English Professor" in me. Proof-read!

Ok, this here is a glorious bit of writing genious. It brought back to me some horrific memories from a road-trip half way across the country back in the 80's. The owner of the car was a country music enthusiast. NONE Of the other 5 people in the car could stand the noise. So I can really relate to what you wrote:

"Music is torture. You never really know how torturous music can be until you have to sit in a car for over an hour (which seems like eons) and listen to another's choice of music that drastically conflicts with your own."

HOW WELL PUT! Excellent!

A.K.