Forgotten Badge and an Interesting Slug Ride

Monday...need I say more? Yesterday was Monday. The first Monday of the year. I forgot my badge and had to get a visitor pass...what a great intro to my new office here: the forgetful intern. Actually, I was not alone. There was a line of guys that had forgotten their badges, and when I got in the building, it seemed like 1 in 20 had a visitor pass. Must have been Monday for everyone.

But the day ended well. When it came time to go home, I headed out to the slug line and there were about 6 cars in line, waiting. Unfortunately, there were about 12 people ahead of me, and using my higher math skills, I soon calculated that if Johnny was the 13th person in line, and cars took two people per car, then when Johnny was the 1st person in line there would be zero cars. (Yet another export from the Middle East upon which I find myself dependent: the mathematical concept of zero...) But, having congratulated myself on my superior math skills, I now found myself waiting for a ride. Suspense always builds at this point. Would the next car around the corner come to my line? Would it be a small two-door Mustang (no room, front or back)? Would it be a large SUV (some are good, some are bad)? A super-comfortable minivan (a great ride, unless they smell bad)? Or perhaps a shiny BMW (not as comfortable as you might think) or Lexus (more comfortable than they look)?

Slugging is kind of like a mini Christmas every day: you know you are going to get a gift, you are not sure that you'll really like it, but you have to pretend that you do even when you don't. (You know, like the inevitable sweater with snowflakes from your aunt, or the trinket from your cousin that is too nice to throw out but to cheap to display). And then there are the gifts that are just a wonderful surprise, like the pony you thought you'd never get or the airgun that you didn't even know was an option. So it was yesterday. Around the corner of the parking lot came a sleek black limo, and it pulled right up to the line. But all was not roses. I spent the ride back to Tacket's Mill getting the seat just the right incline, just the right height, just the right firmness in the small of my back, just the right temperature and just the right distance from the window. So many buttons, so little time. About the time I had everything perfect and was ready to fall asleep, it was time for me to give the driver directions to the commuter parking lot. Did you know that there is so much leg room in the back of a limo you'd have to really stretch to reach the front seat?

I didn't.