I was doing my season-end janitorial duties. Washing the floor, repairing, general cleaning. I had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon at 1:30 PM up in Edmonds. I’d leave at 12:30. Plenty of time. I get into the car, turn on the radio to get the traffic and it began.
“There is a multiple car pile up near 160th on I 405. The back up is now about ¾ a mile.”
I have an end around strategy through the neighborhood to avoid freeway back ups that should still give me time. Every traffic light conspired against me. I grumbled and felt the first pangs of anxiety. I had to wait through two lights at 124th. A truck pulling a trailer lumbers up the hill. “Come on. . . Come ON!” Finally, he is turning. I check the time. Once the truck turns I get around him accelerating. Too much in the first 100 yards. I look in the rearview mirror to enjoy the light show on a police car. I was convinced it was festooned with several extra banks of colorful lights. Nice. I pull over.
“Good afternoon. (yupper). You were going 41 mph in a 25 mph zone.” (My Prius? Went to 41 in less than a football field? Nice! I had the fleeting thought. Very fleeting.) I had plenty of sniveling excuses but I was GUILTY. He handed me my ticket ($195!) and wished me a better afternoon. Nice guy. I puttered off continuing my end run, now a stroll. I checked time and it looked like I might make it.
I rolled in at 1:25. Plenty of time. I hustle to the reception counter. “Hi, I’m Bill Neville and I have an appointment at 1:30.” The receptionist thumbed through the files. She couldn’t find my file. Why?
My appointment is next week.
What a doofus.
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