Crash Course

What with a very full first day and then all that dancing down the street singing about how I’ve gotten a new job, by the time I got to the train station, I’d completely missed rush hour. That means forty minutes between trains to Jersey and a transfer in Newark and other signs of commuter hell. Scep and Katie’s condo is awesome, but it’s at the edge of civilization. (Don’t even try to defend it, Scep, how long is your drive to work?!?) (And Andrea, your house is marked by Here be dragons on my map.)

I finally got back to Scep’s place and chatted with Scep and Katie for a bit before I picked up some clothes and left again to spend the night at my mom’s so I wouldn’t have to do that again tomorrow morning. My folks’ house is much closer to Manhattan-bound commuter rail, and therefore my awesome new job.

I took the Clove Road shortcut by Montclair State, thinking about how I’d spent quite a lot of high school weekends here at Six Brothers diner (Ooh, arcade Puzzle Bobble! That should definitely go on my 15 games list!), and not about the complete stupidity of driving a fifteen-year-old car through a college late at night. I’ve been pulled over probably six or seven times since I got my license, and five or six of those were for driving a battered old car on campus at night. It was worse when I was a new driver, going exactly the speed limit with an expression of mortal terror, but you’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.

By the way, when the cop pulls you over in the middle of the night and asks where you’re coming from and where you’re headed, he doesn’t actually need to know about your new job, your move from North Carolina, and your old boyfriend.

I’m just saying.

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