My chair is squeaking like crazy. At least, I think it's my seat. It might belong to the guy behind me, who keeps digging his knees into my seat. But I'm pretty sure it's mine. I keep trying to figure out how to distribute my weight so it will stop, to no avail. I am right behind the driver, but there's no way he hears me. He has headphones on that, judging by the little screen to his left, are blasting music in a language I don't know (Hebrew possibly?) and he has been tapping his hands and occasionally letting out soft and vaguely animalistic singing noises for the entirety of the three hours so far.
But I don't care. I'm not driving.
I am currently sitting on a bus somewhere between Boston and New York City and this seems as good a time as any to say, I LOVE public transportation. I would never drive if I didn't have to. If I ever have enough money, I'd like to not have to.
In Corinth, MS it seemed like everyone learned how to drive by 12 or 13. Sophomore year Drivers Ed was a mere formality. Not so for me. A couple weeks before The semester started, I freaked out when I realized this and so my dad gave me lessons in the high school's empty parking lot. After a few false starts (and stops), I figured out it wasn't quite as difficult as I'd imagined. I shouldn't really have worried. The test to get your driver's license in Corinth involves pulling out of the parking lot, turning right, going through a four-way stop, turning right again, going through a traffic light and finally taking one last right turn and parking the vehicle safely back in the DMV parking lot. I'm pretty sure it takes most people longer to figure out what weight to put on the form than to complete this driving test.
After that I was handed the keys to the forest green '98 Avalon that had been my dad's car, then my brother's first car, and was now to be my first car. (Actually it's still my first car and is entering teenhood with remarkable grace, despite being almost completely buried in snow a couple times this past winter).
I really enjoyed driving in high school and college. I loved the freedom of going wherever I felt like. Particularly in high school, gas prices were annoying but not the biting burden they are now. There was nothing better on a nice day than to crank up the music and go for a drive, and Mississippi has a lot of nice days. Beautiful weather and show tunes could make even the four hour drive from home to school feel leisurely.
Of course, there soon emerged the problem of alcohol. Or more specifically, who would forgo alcohol for the night to ensure the safety of a car-full of lives. It's pretty much a given that no one wants to be DD. Which brings me back to my original point, public transportation = heaven.
I also really dislike driving in traffic/metropolitan areas. Even in Jackson, Mississippi didn't have much in the way of crazy traffic or road-raged-out drivers. Boston, on the other hand, has them in spades. I've driven in the city plenty of times now, but I never really enjoy it. And I can't even imagine trying to drive in NYC. (Brian and I drove down from Dartmouth a couple years ago and I made him drive the entire time. He is a manly man for putting up with me.)
Personally, I'd rather just get sloshed, avoid angry drivers and not have to worry about speed limits. Public transportation FTW.
Now if we could just get high speed trains in this country, my travel needs would be met. And if someone could fix this seat, that'd be good too.
(Note to my mom, who inquired, and anyone else over the age of 35: the title of this post is a reference to an SNL sketch. I don't just curse willy-nilly. [At least, not on the blog. (At least, not in the titles. [Usually.])])
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