drifting

Great Dane. If this were a real dog, it certainly wouldn’t be standing still on an interstate overpass for what seems like an undetermined amount of minutes. Instead, it’s the non-descript rear end of a Great Dane semi-trailer that I’ve been staring at for the last excruciatingly boring six miles of my seven-mile journey home from work. I’m drifting. Mentally. Like the snow blowing around me in white fluffy gusts along the outskirts of the pavement. Great Dane – the slowest moving animal currently on the road.

I struggle to stay alert. Shift my weight from side to side. Turn on the seat warmer. Turn off the seat warmer. Investigate what my fellow passengers are doing in the vehicles around me. One appears to be sleeping, but I realize he’s just as sedate as I was two minutes ago. Another woman is talking animatedly on her cell phone, pointing and rolling her eyes, then stone-faced as I imagine she’s either conceded her point or preparing her arsenal for a comeback. A couple smiles and laughs in the SUV behind me. Still another man glares angrily at his watch, stares down his cell phone, and prepares to make a futile lane change. You learn a lot about your surroundings when you’re stuck in traffic.

The Great Dane lurches forward. Rolling slowly, we begin to pick up speed. Grimy colored cars and trucks against a backdrop of white and light gray. Drifting towards home.