Sweet, Sweet Morning Air

There’s not much that can get me down in the mornings like traffic. I hate traffic and – well, I think that’s mostly because of the people causing it. Far be it from me though to rant about traffic on the web! You know me better than that. Truly though, traffic is about the only thing that can throw a wrench in the intake of my good morning. Turning around and seeing my daughter look back up over her car seat to get a look at me could brighten the darkest day. I digress.

So this morning was no different. Except that my sister’s boys are both sick, so I had to take Callie somewhere else for daycare today. In Krum. Which is north of Denton. So it took 45 minutes to drive all the way out there, then an hour and a half to make it all the way back to downtown Dallas to get to work. Sigh. So that’s a lot of traffic I dealt with that I won’t be ranting about. Just to let you know.

And once I got into Dallas, in the stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper nonsense that plagues my mornings perpetually, I saw perhaps the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me this morning, which is a rarity. I almost never leave home without it. Had I had it with me, you would be witnessing in grand scale and millions of colors the chilling and magical sight on which I had the chance to look.

The passenger door of the car just ahead and left of me opened up and a young girl leaned her head out and vomited a little on the highway. A beautiful thick pink and purple pattering of salty chunk-lite poured loudly on the cool wet pavement amidst the sounds of a busy winter morning traffic jam. It was truly a sight to behold, watching the contents of a teenager’s stomach drop so majestically onto the slow-moving road beneath.

I smiled to myself.

And a few minutes later I had the good fortune to pass the car, and being the good-natured guy that I am, I waved and smiled to the sickly teen. She was actually quite pretty, save for the pallid look on her face and the slightly vomit-moistened lips. I casually pointed to the area behind the bottom corner of her door, where a few lonely chunks of beef breakfast still clung, undoubtedly cooling now in the brisk morning air. She frowned slightly at me and then I watched as her cheeks puffed and she opened the door to expel again. I smiled as I pulled ahead, nearly rear-ending the rig in front of me. These are the days to remember.

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