When I told them of my decision, the neighborhood Moms laughed in my face. One particularly jaded mother said, "I give you a week." Hell, two of you warned me about it when I wrote about the topic earlier. I'm beginning to believe everyone else was right.
Hell is not other people.
Hell is the Car Pickup Line at Zoey's elementary school.
I thought it might die down after a week or two. I figured people would eventually get tired of spending a good chunk of their afternoon waiting in the queue. I was wrong. True, some people have sucked it up and let their children take the bus, ride their bikes, or hitchhike, but most of the original car riders are still there.
And we're right there with them.
On most days, we pull up in the line about twenty minutes before school is over and don't leave the premises until twenty minutes after school is over. But I don't really mind the wait. Zed hops into the front seat with me and we read books, listen to music, and other stuff. Yeah, he would probably rather do all this in the comfort of our home, but he's a pretty good sport about it. Plus, he gets to pretend to drive the car!
But it's the stress that gets to me. The Car Pickup Line starts out as a nice, peaceful place. Parents stand outside their vehicles and talk to one another. Smaller children play while waiting for big brother or sister to come outside.
And then the school bell rings.
Game On!
The thunder from hundreds of revving minivans fills the air. I watch moms apply lipstick and eye black in their rearview mirrors. People who were the best of friends moments earlier are now sworn enemies, eager to flip you off, run you over, or pass your car at the slightest sign of hesitation. There is no such thing as friendship in the Car Pickup Line. There is only one law: Move Your Car Or Die.
Last week, the guy in the car in front of me fell asleep in his car. I tried honking my horn, but he didn't wake up. I quickly jumped out of the car and banged on his window, saving him from the angry mob that was planning to push his car into the ditch and set it on fire.
Yeah, it's that bad.
Sadly, that's not the most stressful part. It's the teachers that make the line stressful. In their perfect world, you would just slow the car down and your child would jump in while the car's still moving, but there are laws in place to prevent that from happening. So from the time they open your door, you have approximately 2.7 seconds before you're expected to be moving again.
Want to say hello to your child? Too bad. Move along!
Want to kiss your child? Too bad. Move along!
Want to make sure your child is buckled up? Too bad. Move along!
Yeah, I bitch. But I'll be there tomorrow.
With my game face on.
Song of the day: Move Along by The All-American Rejects
The End Of The Line
