Shame of the Scion...

... Or, Connecticut is the Asshole of the Northeast

Greetings from East Bumfuck, PA. After almost nine hours (eight hours and forty-five minutes, to be exact, from the Prime gas station at the corner of School & Summer streets in Somerville to the middle-of-friggin-nowhere AND WHY THE FUCK AREN'T THERE ACCURATE STREET SIGNS, GODSFUCKINGDAMMIT, AND STREETLIGHTS! WHERE ARE THE FUCKING STREETLIGHTS?!?!?!? central Pennsylvania), on the road, I have arrived at KJ's place, three hours later than I predicted and 2.5 hours later than she predicted.

All because of Connecticut.

Fucking Connecticut. It is the BANE of my existence. The best things that have come out of Connecticut have left it (and include several lovely people whom I know). This is the first time I have ever been foiled, well and truly FOILED in my travels by an entire state. I mean, I have dealt with the drama of domestic airline travel (two words: lost luggage), but this is the first time when traveling via car I have ever, ever, EVER been delayed THAT badly. I mean, I am the Scion of the Massachusetts Satellite--I am Speed Racer, I am a demon on wheels (but a safe one! I always use my turn signals and say thank you when someone gives me a break).

But Connecticut... Argh. How the fuck can a state that connects major metropolises--Boston and *gak* New York--HAVE ONLY THREE LANE FUCKING HIGHWAYS?!?!?! WHAT GENIUS DECIDED THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA??!? Seriously. Three-lane highways. Some of which go down to TWO lanes around major metropolitan areas.

This is sheer fucking stupidity.

BTW, in case I haven't explained the whole "Massachusetts Satellite" thing... that was the nickname my father gave to my mother's father, Jack. He drove like a fucking maniac--I have (very bad) memories of his driving... him going so fast up Route 2, his Ford Grand Torino was shaking like it was having an epileptic fit; "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!" his eternal battle cry... Yeah. Well, I have his attitude--although my battle cry is, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY, YOU IMBECILIC SON OF A CUNT!" (Yeah, I know... I am a delicate flower of femininity, especially behind the wheel.) I definitely drive with his turn of speed, but I have a little more common sense. I think.

Anyway, it's sod-all embarrassing to take an extra 2.5 hours for a 6.5 hour drive. It's just NOT DONE, at least when you're me.

I do have ONE positive thing to say about Connecticut--the service I got at the Sbux off of exit 14 off of Route 84 south was excellent. (The coffee sucked, but you can't have everything, I guess, and I almost got t-boned by a rich bitch in a Caddie who was too important to pay attention to the stop sign in the parking lot. She had so much hairspray in, you could have bounced a brick off of her head and not done any damage.) Was awesome to know that the Sbux locator app I downloaded to my phone works like a charm.

Anyway, I am here in PA for a few days to hang, party and spend time with my best friend and godson before returning to the rat race.

I may have to consider taking the bus to the Jim Jefferies show.

Wait. No fucking way am I trusting my safety to another driver. And not after the NYC experience. Guess I'll have to drive through Connecticut again. This time, perhaps, with explosives...