Get Me To The Church On Time!

Whoa! Where do these people come from???? They drive one and a half miles an hour and have no concept of forward motion! They are called Sunday drivers for a good reason. They know better than to come out during the work week. They'd be shot. I left home for church with an entire 15 minutes to spare for the 3 mile drive, plus a Starbucks run. This generally works quite well. But things deteriorate immediately when a guy in a tan car pulls out in front of you on Alderman and goes one and a half miles an hour. He speeds up just as he gets to the light on US 19. HE gets through. Do I? Noooo. I have to wait for the 94 minute light to change. Florida traffic lights are SOOOOO slow. You can read a book, clean out your glove compartment, pull $37 worth of loose change out from under the seats and still have time to check your make-up and hair before it's time to go.

I got away from tan car man for the second time on US 19. He had managed to travel 1 1/2 blocks in a 50 MPH zone. Then he made a dead stop (no turn signal) and turned into the shopping center for whatever. I don't care. Just so long as he's not clogging up traffic.

I turn into Starbucks and it's like the mall parking lot on Christmas Eve. I wait for 5 cars to back out and exit the lot. I get in the store, and there are only 3 people ahead of me but they are ordering the usual 87 item coffee request. Half-half-decaf-light cream triple shot-caramel on the bottom...you know what I mean. Plus the barrista is on the phone with the supplier, and the person at the cash register apparently just walked in off the street that very morning and doesn't know how to ring anything up. AAArrgh. 200 minutes later I get my latte, but Mister 87 Item Person is spread eagled over the sugar and cream station, covering any opportunity for me to just snag one napkin (MOVE!) while he counts out sugar grains and stirs his coffee 43 swirls and takes a month to get the lid on. By now I am feeling so un-Christian I'm wondering if I should even go to church. But I do. Or attempt to. Mr. tan car's 3rd cousin is drifting along Nebraska Ave. He's motorized by the sea breeze perhaps at 12.2 MPH with his turn signal on, slowing to a dead stop at each intersection. We're on the one lane street now, Riviere Rd. so there's no chance of escape.

I idle along. and along. and along. Until he comes to his last dead stop and then s-l-o-w-l-e-y turns into his church parking lot. ( I just knew he had to be a different religion than I) Finally, I am free!!! I rev the engine up to 30 MPH (posted speed limit) well, okay, 34, and get to my church with a heathen attitude. At least with my latte in hand, plus that napkin I waited for, just as the first hymn starts wafting across the lot. Appropriately enough it is "I Am Free". I say a prayer of forgiveness for my evil thoughts toward my fellow man, barrista, tan car, tan car's 3rd cousin and the cash register person and I walk inside for some soul reconditioning. Amen! Enjoy your Sunday! I was late posting this. I took a nap!