yes, it did really happen... the bad day that was the best day ever

many of you have already heard this story, but it's a good reminder of how to keep things in perspective. you can thank veronica for reminding me of it. i'll warn you now that it's a long one, but i promise the payoff at the end is great.

while living in los crapeles, i had a few different jobs. one of them involved the education wing of the simon wiesenthal center. working for an important humanitarian non-profit in beverly hills seemed like a good fit for me, so i jumped at the chance to work for the museum of tolerance. the people were terrific, the job was great, but it did have one little hitch i wasn't really expecting. to put things in a light you'll understand, let me tell you this. to get to my former job here, about 12 miles away, it took me about 20 minutes worth of driving. the drive to my school here was around 45 minutes, but it's around 3o miles from my house. in order to get to my fabulous job for swc/mot i had to go maybe 8 miles... which took well over an hour on an average day. i knew about la traffic before, but i wasn't really prepared for the traumas of it during rush hour on a daily basis. even getting off early on fridays didn't help the mess of it all. so, everyone was giving me hints on which route to take and where all the side streets converge and so on in an effort to help me deal with the gridlock situation. i left each morning trying every way i could think of to get there without having a nuclear style meltdown or completely fucking up the clutch in my car.

on one particular day, i was exploring yet another alternative route (there were about five different optimal ways to get there, which were dictated by time of day and so forth, down to the very minute i would leave the house) to get to the museum in time to have my car searched. let explain this. when entering the garage of the building, a guard would have you get out while they searched your car from bumper to bumper. when entering the building, you had to go through a metal detector. even the employees had to be scanned and searched every single day, as we were working in what could be considered a target for hate crimes and terrorists. no kidding! it was a badge of honor i wore quite well and have kept my parking tag for the place ever since as a sentimental artifact. yep, it's in my car right now.

in any case, on the day of the fatal breakdown i was driving along and took the worst route i ever could have picked. construction, gridlock, wrecks, i had it all. about an hour into the trudge, i called work and left a message that i was running late. in an effort to counteract the clusterfuck, i changed to another street. things only got worse. some of the lanes were closed and all the cars in front of me wanted to turn or weave or some other jacked up thing. when i called derek in a panic about how i was going to get fired via cellphone while sitting in my car, he told me to calm down and call my boss again. i reached her office and told her where i was and what was happening, at which point she gave me a hint as to yet another side street i could take to get to work. that would've been great advice if the street had been accessible to me from where i was at the time, but part of the freeway was cutting me off from where i needed to be. of course i didn't know this at the time, so when i tried to get there i was even more fucked than before.

my car was starting to have flashing lights on the dash from creeping along in first or second gear for such an extended period of time. in trying to navigate the alleged shortcuts to work, i had been stuck out on the road for over two hours. by this time i was in tears and losing my marbles after a short jaunt of about 6 miles. miraculously, i found my way to an amazingly clear arterial street, probably now clear because rush hour was over and everyone else had managed to make it to their destinations except for me. after a few more stoplights i made it into the garage and up to the entrance. before heading to my post, i ran to the security office in the museum for my work jacket and passed by the break room. it was filled with docents and speakers waiting for their next tours. another important point you should know? the people hovering near the coffeemaker were all former neo-nazis and holocaust survivors. if you can imagine, that's most of the people i worked with at this job. they took one look at my bright red face and asked if i was okay. one gentle old lady pulled me aside and told me to go see my new boss before i went to work.

my boss was in shock at the state of me. as she was shuffling me from the office entrance in the next building into the conference room, i broke down almost immediately. what a sight i must have been! my feet were dragging me the conference table while i sobbed hysterically and every single person in the vicinity poked their heads out of doorways and up above cubicles to see what the hell was going on to create this stir. i sat down in a huge chair in the middle of the glass conference room as people walked by to see the spectacle. in those moments i cried so hard i must have turned purple and my head started to teeter in woozy swirls because my whole spine felt like it was giving way. it was the kind of cry you have as a small child, the kind where you can barely even speak between heaving breaths. my boss told me to ignore them and tell her what had happened. as i recounted my day of traffic horror, she held my hand in sympathy and let me know that she'd gone through a similar situation more than once. she assured me that i was not fired on account of all the cars in the world showing up on my morning drive, but that i needed to go get some air and decide what i was going to do.

my sad little body limped down the hall to reach the elevator so i could go outside, and though the stares had gone away, i became very aware that i had acted like a crazy person in the middle of the simon wiesenthal offices. panic left me as embarrassment took over. when i asked my boss how to explain to the others who were asking what had gone on, she simply told me to say that i was having a bad day. what? how can i tell these kindly older docents, who have lived through the freaking holocaust, that i'm having a bad day?!? no doubt it would take the biggest balls in history to compare my meager snarl to their lives.

and in swoops veronica to our story. before i went back to work i stopped across the street to get a soda and smoke a couple of cigarettes in an effort to calm down and let my face change back to its original color. whipping out my phone, i let derek know that i've finally arrived safely at my destination and haven't yet been burned at the stake for not being able to adapt to the traffic. as i hang up, i decide to call vee for a pep talk so that i can have the nerve to walk back into work as if nothing had happened. i tell her everything that's gone on that morning, down to the detail about being instructed to say that i was having a bad day.

"well, of course that's what you should tell them. if anyone asks, just brush it off and say you're having a bad day. it sounds like your boss gave you the right advice."
"but how can i do that? these people have lived through one of the worst events in history. for fuck's sake, who cares if i just moved here from oklahoma and i'm having a bad day?"
"just tell them you're not adjusted to the traffic here yet."
"veronica, they survived the fucking holocaust!"
"oh, holocaust schmolocaust. trust me, they'll understand. now suck it up and get your ass to work, or they will fire you, okay? hang up the phone and get in there."

still in shock, i did what i was told. after one more big breath and exhale, i strolled into the museum, once again going through the metal detectors and making my way towards the staff area. i found my jacket already laid out for me next to the time clock. a few of the people having coffee eyed me to see what i was going to do next, as the tale of my amazing breakdown had obviously been circulated with gusto amongst the staff that day. quite calmly, i clocked in and put on the jacket while trying not to look directly at anyone in the room.

a few of the staff members asked if i was okay. they gave me little pats on the shoulder and told me i looked much better. i just kept responding that i was having a bad day and thanked them for asking me about it. the lady who had earlier ushered me out to speak to me boss approached me slowly and put me in a heartfelt embrace.

"honey, are you feeling better now? we were worried about you in here."
"yes, thank you for asking. i'm having a really bad day. i'm very sorry to say that to someone like you, but i just don't know how else to put it."
"do you mind if i ask what happened?"
"well, i just moved here from oklahoma, and i knew that the traffic here was bad, but i wasn't prepared for it to take me so long to get here. i spent almost three hours in the car and i even tried all the ways people told me about, but i guess i just freaked out with road rage."
"oh honey! i understand what you mean. what an awful day for you. i'm so sorry!"

she gave me another huge hug and stroked my head. at this point i was thrown off in a way i can't even begin to describe. unable to understand her immense sympathy for my pitiful little whining about what must have seemed like a rather boring plight to most of the people in that city, i grabbed her hands and stared at her for a few seconds as she released me.

"wait a minute. how can you say that? i'm just having a hard time getting used to traffic here, and i'm acting like a big baby. you lived through the holocaust!"
"oh honey, the holocaust is over. traffic is every day."

yes, those exact words were spoken to me by a kind old lady and the whole world instantly changed. the utter absurdity of the statement made me laugh from the gut until i wheezed, at last feeling the release i needed. while i never had the nerve to tell her about veronica's offhand pep talk remark, i get the feeling she would have giggled in agreement. the fact that she looked so horrified at the thought of being stuck in traffic for three hours made me realize just how much we had in common. what she said made me realize the true meaning of things like dark humor and absolute relief. and though i did end up finding a job with a less horrendous commute shortly thereafter, it's those few moments that eventually continue to ring in my head whenever i'm having a bad day.

holocaust schmolocaust. traffic is every day.


thank you note:
we miss dizzy, but we will get through this okay. we appreciate the many condolences everyone has been giving to us and the other cats. don't worry too much. it gets a little better every day.