To Get to the Other Side

What if the chicken never crossed the road?

It is the first week of the New Year and things are already off to a chaotic start. My husband has Covid after successfully dodging it during our two weeks in New York. I’m no super sleuth but my guess is he probably picked it up at some point on our jam-packed Alaska Airlines thousand hour (estimated) flight from Newark to LAX in which multiple people were actively coughing, sneezing, and leaking bodily fluids. One woman on our aisle was making such egregious noises throughout the flight it verged on parody. Afterward, en route to baggage claim, I overheard one of her seatmates refer to her as “The Queen of Disgusting” in a heavy French accent. Though I’m not glad my husband has Covid I’m glad I got to hear that man say those particular words.

So, because he’s sick and I’m lazy I ordered ramen from a local vendor last night. The restaurant is within walking distance. I drove! Upon arrival, I found that the fire lane spots where you can illegally pause to pick up your meal were occupied. My brain short-circuited—I was not anticipating having to be proactive as part of this endeavor. I U-turned on Sunset Boulevard, a street name you might recognize from movies, and found a free spot directly across from the restaurant. Unfortunately, it was smack dab in the desolate expanse between two crosswalks. Committed to doing as little walking as possible, I hopped out of my car with the intention of dashing across the street as soon as traffic afforded me the opportunity.

Traffic, as it turned out, did not afford me the opportunity. In the time it would’ve taken me to walk to either crosswalk I stood and watched vehicles whiz by in both directions, somehow in continuous flow despite the two distant traffic lights which by my count turned red at least twice in the time I was standing there. I gazed at the restaurant, safely housing my ramen, a mere hundred feet away. It became clear dashing across the street was not an option, and even if it was, I would need to dash back across the street, and at this point that seemed at least as much of a time commitment as flying from Newark to LAX though with fewer opportunities to contract Covid (plus or minus, depending on how you look at it!).

In the end, I made what I would call the best choice, which was to hop back into my car and complete another vehicular maneuver to take me across Sunset to a now-vacant spot in the fire lane. I did so, threw on my flashers, and headed to the front counter where they promptly told me my order wasn’t ready yet. That meant if I had walked to the crosswalk everything would have probably timed out perfectly.

Instead, I aimlessly waited at the corner, hovering by the car, scanning the horizon for cops. It was not fulfilling. In the promised five minutes the ramen was ready, and I was on my merry way.

This anecdote seems relevant because it’s the time of year when we have every intention of hitting the ground running, only to find that the route we chose actually includes an enormous brick wall, or a river of unending traffic, or maybe there’s nothing wrong with the route but we have Covid and shouldn’t run for like a month. Just hop in the car for the small errand, like you’re the Queen of Disgusting.