06-22/Driving Ms. Daisy

I was prepared to go a different direction with this, but upon coming up with this title I had to give my man Morgan Freeman props, and leave a space here for your favorite line from Shawshank.

This morning started off well, especially since I was excited to be working like a normal person. Still far from normal myself, I ventured out for my nice ride to work.

The radio has been particularly bad lately. Since "Big Whiskey" I've lost some of my tolerance for pop hits, so driving sans satellite radio has left me desiring more. The drive began as usual, luckily not hitting any traffic for the final round of the U.S. Open. The drunk golf spectators are just like drunk car racing fans, however Heineken replaces Miwaukees Best and polo shirts replace T-Shirts that read " My other Car is my Sister."

On pace for an early arrival, my worst fears came to life one exit before I'm supposed to leave the highway. Over a small hill a sea of red brake lights packed the road. A seasoned driver with plenty of miles under (and over) my belt, I knew this wasn't normal volume because it was stationary. Quick thinking, I started my descent one exit early, by a hard right hand turn over three lanes and off the highway - the service road my salvation.

The service road ran smoothly, and gave myself congratulations as if I invented the wheel, when in reality I made a simple decision. Then I hit another wall of red. Behind the scenes, a nasty accident had shut down the highway in Happauge, Smithtown area, and I was stuck in the middle of it.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. When I saw the red for the second time a few things flashed before me.

1.) Did I really need to jump back and forth between morning episodes of "Saved by the Bell" and VH1? OK, we got it Chris, you like "The Man Who Can't Be Moved." Check the traffic, dummy.

2.) Finishing last night's Jaeger Schnitzel was not the greatest idea.

3.) I'm stuck with the radio.

I picked 95.5 PLJ first, but Scott and Todd have the entertainment value of me shopping at EXPRESS for Men. They come back from commercial with the harmony of Shop Boyz "Party like a Rockstar." Now if they actually played the song on that station all hell would break loose, and a fleet of Dodge Caravans would take over the station parking lot to complain.

I wonder if the harmony of that song without the words, and Scott talking about how he went to Morton's last night for dinner, get all these Soccer Moms all excited. Do they hear the beat and feel young again, like the ferry boat scene of "Weekend at Bernie's?" Do they see a nice young man in shorts and white long sleeve, no collar shirt, wearing a sport jacket and say, " I'd really like make out with that guy?"

I can't say much, because the music that supposed to appeal to my demographic is led by "Person" Gaga, making noises in his/her songs as if they are on a football field. "Love Games" is full of "huttt, haaa - hutt huttt, haaa." It sounds like me in the morning after a long night of no self control.

I settled on Boomer and Carton, sports talk, because Carton was calling Brian Cashman (GM of the Yankees) a woman. That's entertainment. Obviously I made it in time, and I am able to get something from the gross coffee truck.

"My friend Andy always said Bacon Egg and Cheese from a Roach Coach would not sit well. I found out exactly what he meant that morning."

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