I get about one day a week off from my nearly 24/7 duties at Children’s Hospital. (If you’re just joining us, you can read about all that here.) This day is Friday, when my mom comes to stay with Robot Boy so I can go home, have a real dinner with my husband, decompress, and sleep. My mom works most Fridays, and she is wonderful enough to come after work and sleep at the hospital. Well, I shouldn’t really say “sleep at the hospital” because anyone whose ever been in a hospital or stayed with a loved one in a hospital knows you don’t sleep. Not more than an hour or so at a time, anyway.
It’s suffice to say these evenings I get away from the hospital are sacrosanct. I do my best to get home in enough time to go out to dinner with my husband and at least spend some time with him before he has to go to bed, as he works Saturdays usually. My home is approximately an hour and a half from the hospital, depending on traffic. The drive is hardly bothersome under normal conditions. For the last five years, I’ve had an hour commute to and from work-sometimes before and after working 12+ hours. I don’t mind driving, as long as the traffic is moving and there aren’t very many fucking assholes inconsiderate drivers on the road. I turn up the radio and exercise my vocal chords.
As I’ve said, under normal circumstances, I don’t mind the drive. However today, today my decisions led to me into very unusual driving conditions for my Friday night of freedom. My mom didn’t work this Friday, and she was at the hospital earlier than usual. Instead of leaving the hospital shortly after she arrived, I chose to stay and visit a while. I also have a terrible time tearing myself away from RB. Especially on nights like tonight, when he was watching me pack my bag, knowing that I was leaving. Not that he doesn’t love his grandma. He is very excited when she visits, but Mom is the safety net. Mom is there to make sure nothing goes awry. And also Mom knows-or thinks she knows-exactly what he wants most of the time.
I don’t regret my decision to stay, but I was less than pleased to be stuck in the horrendous traffic which accumulated at the precise moment I left the hospital’s parking lot. I made the unwise decision to leave at exactly 5p.m. on a Friday night. Oh and also on the night of a Hornets game. I sat on the same street for no less than 30 minutes. Someone in a black Yukon that’s license number I did not memorize for use in future voodoo ceremonies nearly caused an accident by purposely skirting around me while I was clearing changing lanes to avoid an 18-wheeler. I hardly berated the driver before he/she sped away.
I finally made it to the interstate, only to discover the traffic was almost as bad. With my bladder’s fluid gauge on full, I approached the High Rise, which any native knows is another traffic nightmare. At any rate, I finally got through the city and crossed Lake Pontchartrain en route to my home.
I exited as soon as possible and hit a gas station to fill up and utilize their surprisingly clean restrooms. I bought an enormous coffee (and a six-pack) and returned to the road. Instead of heading back to the interstate, I remained on the highway, which proved to be an unfortunate decision since everyone else in the state also decided to do the same thing on the same road. I was stuck in more traffic. But, with an empty bladder, a serious caffeine high, and good music, my two and a half hours in snarling traffic already seemed much less unpleasant, and at the exact moment I was contemplating driving through servitudes and on private property, the Muses graced me with a rather fitting song on the radio. . .
I, of course, recognized the fortuity. As I began to sing (both David Bowie and Freddie Mercury’s parts in perfect pitch, I might add), my foul mood was interrupted by tolerance and stoicism. What importance really, in the grande scheme of things (if there is one) holds traffic? I felt most uplifted: “Pray tomorrow gets me higher, high, high!”
Perhaps it was the music, or my utter madness, or the realization that there is no use being upset when you can grin and enjoy a major caffeine rush, or perhaps it was all these things, but I was wearing a smile and feeling so much better. “Cause love’s such an old-fashioned word/And love dares you to care for/The people on the edge of the Night/And love dares you to change our way of/Caring about ourselves.”
When the song ended, I felt like I needed a decent follow-up. You can’t just come down off a high like that. With my iPod on shuffle, I skipped the next two songs until I found a great song to accompany the first.
“That time will come/One day you’ll see/When we can all be friends.”
Under Pressure was written and performed by Queen & David Bowie and appeared on Queen’s 1982 album Hot Space.
The Miracle was written and performed by Queen and appeared on their 1989 album of the same name. The four boys from the video are Paul Howard as Brian May, James Currie as John Deacon, Adam Gladdish as Roger Taylor, and Ross McCall as Freddie Mercury.
Bohemian Rhapsody was written by Freddie Mercury and performed by Queen. It appeared on their 1975 album A Night at the Opera (titled after the Marx Brothers’ movie of the same name).
The Muppets were created by Jim Henson and currently belong to The Walt Disney Company.
A Wordsmith's Brainworks 
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