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Story Notes:
Stuck in traffic, stuck in traffic
We are stuck in traffic
We are never gonna get to the hotel
Cause we are stuck in traffic
Stuck in traffic

We are living in hell
We are stuck in traffic

We've been on a plane for twenty two hours
Twenty two hours
And now we're stuck in traffic

By the time we get to the hotel
We've got to turn around and fly back to hell
Because we're still stuck in traffic
The First Forty Eight Minutes and Fifty Seconds

"It's 5:15 and if you're heading home, stay clear of Interstate 5 heading north. Multiple pile-ups and construction have increased estimated wait time from anywhere from three to six hours."



I whipped around to see a ninety-year old guy that looked like Mr. Magoo laying on his horn. He flipped me off.

If the damn radio report had come through about thirty minutes earlier I wouldn't have been trapped. Instead I was in the thick of a bumper to bumper jam to end all traffic jams. I had half a Red Bull and some stale fries that were an indeterminate amount of days old. I knew I had ordered them sometime before the trip to China.

The car in front of me was a brand new Hyundai Sonata. At least the paper plate in the back window and the perfect cherry red exterior were all signs pointing to a car that had just rolled off the showroom floor. I snickered. Hopefully the owner had asked the dealership to fill them up before they rolled off the lot. I glanced at my own fuel tank. The needle was slowly dropping but I was hovering at three-fourths of a tank. I turned down the air conditioner and slumped down. They had to be exaggerating. There was no way in hell that there could be a three to six hour wait.



"Ittttt'sssss six o'clock! If you just punched that clock don't hop on 5 unless you want to miss dinner and breakfast."

I could have punched the smartass DJ. After twenty minutes of not moving, I had just turned the car off. We hadn't moved an inch. Luckily, the beeping from the old dude had stopped. I didn't know whether his hand had just gotten tired or he died. I wasn't curious enough to get out and check. With this traffic, no hearse was going to get to him anyhow.

It was my fault I was stuck in traffic. If I had just gone with Brian, Howie, and Kevin this wouldn't have happened. But no, I had to stop at home because I had forgotten my lucky t-shirt at home before we had left for China and I couldn't do without it for our Canada dates. They thought I was crazy, but they hadn't gotten the shits for five days because they didn't have their lucky t-shirt.

My ass hurt too much to risk it again.

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walk--

Taylor's annoying voice blasted through my speakers and I switched to my IPod. Once upon a time I was metrosexual enough to sing along with her but I had kinda lost interest in her songs. I mean there's only so much bitching you can do about bad relationships when you were the one that was the human bicycle - every guy was welcome to hop on and take the Tour De Taylor.

You should've been gone!

Now that was more like it. My fingers hovered over the steering wheel as I belted out the lyrics.

Oh I must've been a dreamer...

My fingers began the drum sequence. I began the appropriate 80's headbanging. As the song belt to chorus I tipped my head back.

Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on
Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on

It was time for the air guitar. I was glad I had turned off the car so I could appropriate strum along, holding out the wailing chords.

I was in heaven for the three minutes and fifty seconds the song was on. After it was over I was even more sweaty and I realized that the Sonata in front of me hadn't move an inch. I slammed my head into the steering wheel.