of scots and six car pile ups

TRAFFIC IS OUT OF CONTROL. every single morning it takes me an hour and fifteen minutes to get home. i've mentally prepared myself for this trip. it's always this way. it's a law of los angeles "thou shalt not travel south from the valley at a speed exceeding five miles per hour". my thoughts on los angeles traffic: traffic is bad. ok fine. road rage under control. breathe. between the hours of 8:30 and 9:45am i will sit in my car and practice patience. of course the moment i came to terms with the traffic, the heavens started to tremble with rage. ivan cannot be happy on her commute. no, she must be miserable every single moment she sits in her car. yes, the very moment i accepted traffic into my heart, the Powers That Be decided something must be done.

it was saturday. i was driving. i was perfectly happy. it was 3 o'clock in the afternoon. traffic was not bad. i noticed something in the distance. cars began to slow. "it's ok," i said to myself "probably just a stray rain cloud." traffic is worse on cloudy days. i told myself the congestion would clear up quickly. i swear i heard the forces that control the universe start to cackle with glee. i saw the road block. and then i saw the parade. and then i heard the miserable, wretched sound. it was the sound of small animals being slaughtered. fingernails on a chalkboard. the sound of bagpipes. the god of traffic sent me BAGPIPES. i hate bagpipes. my roommate junior year was a bagpiper. she liked to break them out at parties when she was drunk and play amazing grace. she liked to blame me for the fact that she could never practice. "ivan hates the bagpipes so i can never play them in the house". IT'S NOT JUST ME. NO ONE LIKES THE BAGPIPES. actually, they came in handy once. the neighbors were having some sort of all night rave on a tuesday and we asked them to turn down the music. they said no. the roommate went to war. she broke out the pipes and within two minutes the neighbors had turned off the music and were lying on the floor in the fetal position begging for it to end (and she said i never let her practice). so yes, there i was sitting on pico in the middle of the afternoon staring at a full on scottish pride parade, or a funeral, or a braveheart reenactment... i have no idea what it was. it was unnecessary that's what it was. i finally found my way onto a side street and drove around the kilt-wearing, plaid-loving bastards. since then i've had to deal with six car pile-ups, street cleaners, heavy construction, camera controlled intersections and general los angeles idiocy. it's ok. i'm ok. the scots have given me a whole new perspective on driving in los angeles: traffic is bad, but as long as there are bagpipers in the world, i am constantly reminded my commute could be much, much worse. and now that i've accepted this, i wonder what the Powers That Be will come up with next... i'm betting it rains oatmeal rasin cookies.