Inga Beep the Jeep – Page 2

Hello, darkness, my old friend

11:30 a.m.
I’m at work right now and I can’t concentrate, which, in all honesty, is nothing new. But this time, I have a good excuse: it’s currently snowing the absolutely largest snowflakes I have ever seen in my life. This is how it’s supposed to look on Christmas and yet, 12 days before Christmas as I sit in my dusty cubicle staring outside the nearby window, I fear I’ll never see snow as gorgeous as the snow falling right now.

12:25 p.m.
I just returned from my daily walk with CP. Some highlights:

1. As of the completion of this walk, CP and I remain tied in the competition for the BSA title (Best Snowball Aim). In the first throw, she nailed the tree dead on while I missed wide left. In the second throw, I lofted a beautifully-made, lightweight, super-gripper snowball into a narrow tree 75 feet away and CP followed off with a nervously-thrown snowball that fell well short of the target. Her performance adds fuel to the critics’ speculation that she can’t handle the pressure. We’ll see how well she handles herself in the second round.

2. A few minutes later, CP took out her BSA frustrations by “accidentally” nailing me in the crotch with a snowball.

3. We whistled, hummed, and clapped our way through Sleigh Ride. Much fun was had by all.

4. I tried to no avail to describe my favorite holiday commercial: the Old Navy Christmas carolers and, specifically, the cute “By the way (point point), your mom says hi (wave, wave, wave)!” girl. CP wasn’t impressed.

1:45 p.m.
I just returned from a quick conversation with Sarah the L at her desk. Here’s how the conversation played out:

Mr. Benchly – Should I call the Enterprise woman? Or has too much time passed?
Sarah the L – I don’t know. Has too much time passed? You could always say, “I tried calling you Friday but you weren’t in the office.”
Mr. Benchly – I could. But has the moment passed? (And then, quoting a song from the Broadway play Into the Woods…) “This was just a moment in the woods…may I rent your car?”

That last joke will only be funny to those who realize that the original quote was “This was just a moment in the woods…may I kiss you?”

What we were discussing was the woman from whom I rented a car following Inga’s accident. I sensed a vibe there and then later in the day, she called me for a “Courtesy Customer Check Up.” I’ve rented cars 5 or 6 times in my life and never once have they called to check up on me. Maybe this is a Vermont thing (most likely) but MAYBE the woman really was giving me a vibe and she wanted to talk to me again. Taking a risk, I called her back to ask her out but she had left for the day. And now that I’ve had the weekend to psych myself out, I’m hesitant to call her again. Why am I so afraid? What’s the big deal about potential rejection anyway?

2:10 p.m.
The workplace is filled with electricity right now at the realization that the Parking Lot Extramarital Affair Couple has returned to action after a month-long absence. I can hardly control myself at the sight of these two lovebirds. For the greater part of the summer, their semi-daily encounters in our parking lot were my entertainment. And then, as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. Did they break things off? Did they go on vacations with their respective families and spouses? Did one of their spouses find out and commit a crime of passion? We’ll never know. But now, at least, they’ve returned for our viewing pleasure and all is right in the world again.

3:38 p.m.
Fighting off the temptation to not call the Enterprise Woman thanks to a newfound courage, I sat in my car and dialed the number, waited impatiently as the phone rang and said “Can I speak to Enterprise Woman?” when Enterprise Man said “This is Enterprise Man, how may I help you?” The following is the conversation that, um, followed:

Enterprise Man – She’s not in the office. Is there anything I can do for you?
Me (thinking “Yes! Tell me if she’s interested in me!!!!!!”) – Can I leave a message for her?
Enterprise Man (shuffling some papers) – Yes. Go ahead…
Me (thinking “I think I love her, so what am I so afraid of?”) – Can you please tell her Mr. Benchly called? My number is blah blah blah – blah blah blah blah.
Enterprise Man (obviously annoyed) – Sure thing. I’ll pass that on.
Me – Thanks.

3:43 p.m.
After notifying Sarah the L of my brave attempt at courting, I returned to my desk to find my phone blinking the “1 Missed Phone Call” message!!!! I don’t recognize the number and can only assume that Enterprise Woman was given the message and returned the phone call. Now I sit here waiting impatiently for her to call back.

4:51 p.m.
Taking fate by the ears one last time, I called Enterprise Woman and miraculously, she answered. I said everything I rehearsed for the last 3 days and sank to a new low emotional level beneath the ground but just above hell when Enterprise Woman said, “I can’t believe you called. I’m so flattered! But I have to decline because I have a boyfriend.” And so my depressing day ends with me making her day. So it goes.

Near death…and back before dinner

Last Tuesday night, I found myself sitting in Row L in the Flynn Theatre enjoying a Dan Bern and Ani DiFranco concert with three very random people:

1. My former boss from summer camp (aka, my father’s associate pastor);
2. Her husband (aka, my sister’s ex-boyfriend); and
3. A woman I had never met before but whose entire immediate family I worked with at said summer camp; who hours earlier left a voicemail message on my phone offering me a free ticket to the performance.

I think, for 90 minutes, I was in love with Ani. If you’ve never seen her perform, and I hadn’t until then, I suggest you check her out while you can. She’s the tiniest performer I’ve ever seen but her energy and talent equaled or bettered anyone I’ve ever seen…except maybe Weird Al.

12 hours later, I boarded the US Airways Near Death Experience Plane to visit Ms. Parker. The turbulence was so rough, my seat left my seat during the flight. I suppose I can say I experienced weightlessness for that split second. Considering the food I ate at Thanksgiving, it was a nice feeling despite the underlying feeling of terror. During our descent, the high winds knocked the plane around like a cat batting a mouse. When we were over the runway, there was a gust of wind that turned the wings nearly perpendicular to the ground. If we were any closer to the ground, we might have lost a wing. Ultimately, we landed safely and the cabin erupted into a heartfelt round of applause.

6 days later, two days after returning home safely from my trip on a less-than-exciting flight, I found myself driving home from work through a terrible snow/sleet/ice/rain storm. The weather was turning my 50-minute commute into a 90-minute one. Halfway home, I crossed a bridge, hit a patch of ice and lost control of Inga (evidently, there’s real truth to those “Bridges Freeze Before Roads” signs). I fish-tailed twice, skidded down the road sideways for a second and rammed the front right corner of Inga into the guardrail on the right lane side of the road. When the dust settled, I found myself staring down oncoming traffic from the driver’s seat of a stalled car with its butt in the right lane. I restarted the car, pulled onto the shoulder, got out to see my front bumper nearly pressing against my front tire, called 911, and waited for the cop and the subsequent tow.

People always talk about these “life flashing before your eyes” moments like you have enough time to think of anything other than how to avoid death. On the plane, yes, I had the entire flight to pray, think of my family and loved ones, and thank my morbid self for the will I always leave on my bedroom desk each time I fly. In my car, though, the only thought I had time to think was “this could be it” and it’s because of this that I fear my last words are doomed to be terribly ineloquent. After the near death experience, however, I had PLENTY of time to think. And these were my thoughts:

1. There’s no reason to be afraid to change careers;
2. There’s no excuse not to write the story that’s been in your head for 5 years; and
3. There’s no reason not to tell her how you feel.

I doubt that hearing of near death experiences is as powerful and rewarding as surviving them, but that should never stop you from trying to learn from them. Thus, know that I learned that I have the power to live the life I desire. And if I ignore my passions and desires and I fall victim to apathy, I risk a fate far worse than death.

Beeps and Jeeps and General Creeps

This past June, on a semi-hot, terribly muggy, infamously miserable Thursday, I climbed into the driver’s seat of my beloved vehicle of 4 years, Inga Beep the Jeep, and proceeded to drive her to an early grave. For the metaphorically challenged out there, that’s my way of saying I overheated her to the point where smoke came out of her, fluids sprayed all over her, and she stunk up the whole neighborhood. The friendly mechanic and his trusty sidekick were able to bring her back to life but you could tell right away: she wasn’t the same. Part of her died that day. Maybe it was my betrayal of her trust. Maybe it was her Jeepish pride. We’ll never know. Regardless…

To prolong her now painful life, I decided to take advantage of Vermont’s public transportation system and ride the Loser Cruiser bus as much as possible. Burlington to Barre and back for $6. Considering the round trip covers 100 miles total, that’s a hell of a deal.

Riding the bus most mornings has introduced me (and fellow passenger Sarah the L) to an incredibly eclectic universe of environmentally-aware, politically-conscientious, and down-on-their-luck individuals. There are the regulars:

– Al Bundy (picture the Married With Children patriarch, and you’re picturing this passenger).
– Cute Rainbow Belt Lesbian Biker Girl (self explanatory)
– Road Rage Man (the guy who went postal on me on Interstate 89)
– Helen (If only because she reminds me of the grandmotherly woman who taught one of my college courses [she’s the one with the mic])

– Mustache Man (again, self explanatory)
– Duck Girl (Sarah the L will have to elaborate on this one because I wasn’t there when the “Duck Conversation” happened)
– Make Out Woman (so named because she was seen making out with her [presumably new] boyfriend while waiting for the bus to arrive

And the not so regulars:
– Cute Washington Plates Girl (cause she drives a car with Washington plates)
– Fun Curly Haired Teacher Guy (often seen grading the homework of his elementary school students. Recent assignment, I kid you not: What I Did on My Summer Vacation)

I can only imagine what the regulars call Sarah the L and I. “Gay Girl and Gay Boy”? “Rockstar and her Handsome Friend”?

Anyway, today, on the ride into work, Al Bundy was his usual self and what we polite folk politely call “ANNOYING AS ALL HELL!!!” He talks to you when you’re trying to read; he talks to you when you have headphones on; he talks to you when you pretend you’re talking on your cell phone; he talks to you when you walk away from him; he talks to you when you’re talking to someone else.

As most of you can attest, I don’t do well when strangers talk to me. I can think of a hundred different uncomfortable situations I could be in every day, and having to talk to strangers always tops the list. So essentially, Al Bundy is like the kryptonite to my Superman Commuter World. I can have a great ride into work if I can just get by him. But like Superman, I know I can’t attack him straight on so my sneaky defense lately has been to hide in the back of the bus with my headphones on, my head planted in a book, and my cell phone attached to my ear.

But today, without headphones, and with my book making me carsick, the kryptonite of Al Bundy got to me. He sat in the front seat and talked so loudly I could hear him all the way in the back. Because of all the negativity I associate with him, I pretty much now equate his voice to the moan of a dying mule muffled by styrofoam being rubbed against a chalkboard. Trapped in the back of the bus, I tried to escape but my Superman Commuter World powers were no match for his kryptonic voice. I was defeated. The bus ride ended and I dragged myself down the steps to the sidewalk below as Al Bundy said, “have a nice day.”