The road to school is NOT paved with good intentions

 I am writing this with the greatest of reluctance, knowing that calling attention to Erin's antics will only encourage her. But as our shenanigans (mine being defensive in nature) may have caused the only known non-tractor or livestock-related traffic jam in Wyoming Country, it seemed to bear witnessing. 

Erin and I manage mornings in very different ways...sparkle versus sludge. She skips. I stomp. She's singing show tunes while nary a syllable slips past my lips.

It's bad enough that I am forced to deal with her good cheer at work but we also often share the same sunrise journey; our vehicles meeting at the start of School Road. If I have the misfortune of Erin being behind me, I have to don protective eye wear to fend off her blinding, blinking high beams sending me a merry Morse Code message. If she's in front of me, I am delayed at every stop sign by a Broadway performance or, if she's feeling saucy, a burlesque show...as she shimmies across the street.

Not a jury in the world would have blamed me when, yesterday, I finally snapped. First stop sign. Sigh. Here she goes...in a slinky little black number with sequins. She teaches KINDERGARTEN, folks. As she turned to offer me a booty bump, I tossed the Titan in gear and blew past her. As the second stop sign approached, I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. Of course, it was dress-up day at school...THANKS TO ERIN who made every flippin' day in December a dress-up day. So, clad from top to toe in red velvet with white fur trim, I flung myself out into the other lane and, illuminated by Erin's spotlight, put on my own show. 

Suddenly aware that there was traffic in the intersection, I moved, with a deep, dramatic bow, to re-enter my vehicle. The other car, situated perpendicularly to Erin and I, was immobile as the driver was incapacitated with laughter (Sorry, Candy.) Seeing cars beginning to line up behind my cackling co-worker, I tried to wave Candy on. Why won't my door shut? Is that a police car stuck in the traffic jam that we (Erin) caused? My red robes, waving majestically OUTSIDE my door, acted as a red flag to direct the confused cars as I prayed vehemently, "Please let that be Officer Ivan. Please let that be Officer Ivan." I rolled down my window so I could better hold my door shut and ignored Erin's incessant phone calls. Pretty sure I was racking up enough traffic violations (and creating some new ones) without adding being on the phone to my misdemeanors. 

Poor Katriel is accustomed to my grouchy greetings each morning but even she was startled by my degree of disgust when I picked her up. "It was my own fault," I fussed, "I lowered myself to her level." "This all happened on your way to work?" Katriel said, stunned, "You literally live five minutes up the road!" 

By the time we entered the building, Erin had alerted every occupant about our exploits. So much for my single syllable responses...I had to spend my morning delivering dissertations defending my actions. Officer Ivan eventually wandered down to take our statements and issue stern safety warnings. My principal listened sympathetically as I explained how Erin had provoked me. "It's always the one who was provoked who gets caught," she observed, offering to help me lay out a plan to avoid a repeat performance in the future. Neither leaving earlier or taking a longer, alternative route appealed to me. "Take the higher road, Amy" my boss encouraged. Forget that...fueled by road rage, I'm ready to hit the streets.