another day, another lunchbreak
For no apparent reason, the company president decided to order Chinese takeout for us the other day, using the company account. Evidently this is one of the perks of a cushy, if tedious and frustrating, Office Job. As I occupy the lowest rung on this corporate ladder, I was sent for pick-up. Though ecstatic at the thought of a chance to escape my windowless position in the over-air-conditioned building, I kept my excitement under wraps as I asked for directions to the restaurant:
"It's right over there," Latoya gestured out her window. "Just take a left out of the parking lot, go to the second stoplight and take a right. You'll be in the parking lot."
"Sounds close. Can I walk there?"
"Oh no. No. I want to eat toDAY."
"Yeah, you don't want to walk out there anyway," chimed in a third co-worker. "It's so busy, you'd probably get run over or something."
"Alright," I shrugged, resigned. This is, after all, Minnesota. Known within as the 'Land of Ten Thousand Lakes,' this slogan is a thin cover for reality, which would better read, 'Land of Ten Million Cars.'
Do that many people even live in Minnesota? you may wonder. The truth is, I don't know and it wouldn't matter if there were far less than that number because every man, woman and child has at least one car and many have two or three. If you drive onto my dad's property, for example, you will see one lake and at least five cars. Four are his, though only one functions on a regular basis. One belongs to my brother-in-law, who parked it there when he and my sister moved to California (go figure).
Meanwhile, noon was fast approaching at the office and I was still assigned to fetch lunch. I walked down the hall, riding the elevator down to the first floor and passing through the large, glass double doors into the summer light and warmth that is Minneapolis at its best. I walked the length of the parking lot to my car. I looked over at the Chinese restaurant. Yes, I could see it. And yes, I was still going to drive there.
Sad, I know. I lived without a car for the four years that made up my time in New York and Vancouver. Needless to say, I walked a lot. I got used to walking and in fact came to enjoy it. The distance between me and the to-go boxes was a mere jaunt compared to the grueling miles I have walked hungry and in search of a luncheon meeting place or some particular food that happened to be far away but worth it. I knew that getting in the car was ridiculous.
But I unlocked the door and put the key in the ignition. I drove out of the parking lot and through the first stoplight. At the second however, I had to stop. After stopping, I could have legally made my right-hand turn, except there was a pedestrian in front of me using the CROSSWALK. I leaned forward, clenching the wheel, glaring jealously at this fearless human who dared to enter the Land of Cars without his own two-ton bubble of armor. I cursed my co-workers for telling me it could not be done. I cursed myself for believing them.
Pedestrian past, I took my right and began to look for an open spot. I circled the parking lot once finding nothing. I circled again, to no avail. Finally, on my third time around a spot opened up exactly halfway between the restaurant and where my car had been previously parked. I tried not to think about the fact that I could have walked here in this amount of time, saved the gas and enjoyed myself much more. I avoided thinking of what I was doing at all, lest it cause me to jump out in front of one of the many passing cars, which would have really made my driving a futile endeavor. Instea,d I enjoyed what little time I did have outside and mentally chanted my new mantra, "Up yours' ladies," 'cuz next time I'm walking.
"It's right over there," Latoya gestured out her window. "Just take a left out of the parking lot, go to the second stoplight and take a right. You'll be in the parking lot."
"Sounds close. Can I walk there?"
"Oh no. No. I want to eat toDAY."
"Yeah, you don't want to walk out there anyway," chimed in a third co-worker. "It's so busy, you'd probably get run over or something."
"Alright," I shrugged, resigned. This is, after all, Minnesota. Known within as the 'Land of Ten Thousand Lakes,' this slogan is a thin cover for reality, which would better read, 'Land of Ten Million Cars.'
Do that many people even live in Minnesota? you may wonder. The truth is, I don't know and it wouldn't matter if there were far less than that number because every man, woman and child has at least one car and many have two or three. If you drive onto my dad's property, for example, you will see one lake and at least five cars. Four are his, though only one functions on a regular basis. One belongs to my brother-in-law, who parked it there when he and my sister moved to California (go figure).
Meanwhile, noon was fast approaching at the office and I was still assigned to fetch lunch. I walked down the hall, riding the elevator down to the first floor and passing through the large, glass double doors into the summer light and warmth that is Minneapolis at its best. I walked the length of the parking lot to my car. I looked over at the Chinese restaurant. Yes, I could see it. And yes, I was still going to drive there.
Sad, I know. I lived without a car for the four years that made up my time in New York and Vancouver. Needless to say, I walked a lot. I got used to walking and in fact came to enjoy it. The distance between me and the to-go boxes was a mere jaunt compared to the grueling miles I have walked hungry and in search of a luncheon meeting place or some particular food that happened to be far away but worth it. I knew that getting in the car was ridiculous.
But I unlocked the door and put the key in the ignition. I drove out of the parking lot and through the first stoplight. At the second however, I had to stop. After stopping, I could have legally made my right-hand turn, except there was a pedestrian in front of me using the CROSSWALK. I leaned forward, clenching the wheel, glaring jealously at this fearless human who dared to enter the Land of Cars without his own two-ton bubble of armor. I cursed my co-workers for telling me it could not be done. I cursed myself for believing them.
Pedestrian past, I took my right and began to look for an open spot. I circled the parking lot once finding nothing. I circled again, to no avail. Finally, on my third time around a spot opened up exactly halfway between the restaurant and where my car had been previously parked. I tried not to think about the fact that I could have walked here in this amount of time, saved the gas and enjoyed myself much more. I avoided thinking of what I was doing at all, lest it cause me to jump out in front of one of the many passing cars, which would have really made my driving a futile endeavor. Instea,d I enjoyed what little time I did have outside and mentally chanted my new mantra, "Up yours' ladies," 'cuz next time I'm walking.
posted by fashion skool at 11:20 AM
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