Caught on camera

I'm working on the Bear Mtn race post -- a long race with lots of new experiences makes for a lot more to write.   For now I will say that today my legs finally look like their original shape after being swollen all week.  My toes are still a bit mud stained.  How does that last so long?  It's faint, but its visible.  Whatever.  In the mean time, here's my latest moment of shame from our drive up to the Harriman State Park area on Friday afternoon.

I'm driving up because I know I will be absolutely useless after the race.  We (Nathan and I) were already a bit frazzled from missing the exit onto the Palisades Parkway once across the George Washington Bridge.  I remembered it being straight forward, though apparently that was from the upper level of the bridge.  From the lower level the exit simultaneously begins as it diverts 90 degrees, its sign covered by a tree and behind a concrete highway column.  By the time we could point at it to question, it was already at our side if not behind us.  Live and learn. 

Our new route had tolls.  We hit the first one, and I stay to the right in what I thought was labeled both cash and EZ Pass.  We wanted to pay cash.  But a new sign says "receipt" and another sign for the same lane says "EZ Pass only."  Suddenly we're shouting random exclamations [read: expletives] and directives.  This is still the NYC metro area, so there's more than a few folks zipping hither and yon.  Quick look left, zip zip merge, new lane -- definitively EZ Pass only.  Insert expletives.  Increase shouting.  Quick look left, practically levitate the car into the next lane -- also EZ Pass only.  Sh*t balls.  I've run out of any room to jump left without t-boning those poor unfortunate souls who were witness to our shenanigans.  (And, mind you, those souls are moving fast....)

By now I'm waving two dollars frantically into the ether, screaming "I want to pay!  How can I f***ing pay?!  I f***ing hate New York!"  At the same time Nathan has a stroke of genius and sees the two strips of velcro at the top center of the windshield signifying ownership of an EZ Pass.  In the matter of one second he throws open the glove compartment, digs in a fury through the piles, pulls out the square white box, and throws himself forward to get it onto the windshield while screaming something that I can't hear over my own swearing.  I'm flailing and screaming, Nathan is sprawled across the dash and screaming, and in perfect comedic irony the light indicating successful payment never changes while we roll by it at a whopping fives miles per hour.  We both go silent and still for five seconds, then proceed to swear at anything and everything related to New York.  In comedic encore, our original lane turned out to have a cash booth some 50 feet beyond the main row of booths.  Jersey f***ers....

The kicker to this fail?  Likely on camera.  Likely to receive a ticket.  Likely to end up on one of those "Look at these clueless driver!  Who do they think they are?!" type of shows. 

I suddenly recall "A League of Their Own," when they send players to etiquette classes: "Gracefully and grandly.  Gracefully and grandly.  GRACEfully and..." [insert expletives and shooting a snot rocket out of my nose].

Luckily the bad luck with driving was balanced out by a good day on the trails.  More on that soon.  By the weekend.  I promise.