Fun on the Road

So, my "new" job has me traveling quite a bit.  Sometimes I put between 1,100 and 1,500 miles a week on my truck.  I don't mind the travel because most of it can be done in day trips and, when I do have to spend the night somewhere, my company is okay with me staying in a nice place. 

My territory is rather large and I live in the southern-most end of it.  My days sometimes begin between 4:00a.m. and 5:00a.m.  I get up, have my coffee, read the news online, post a status on FB, read what others have posted while I've been snoozing, shower, dress and head out the door between 5:30a.m. and 6:00a.m.  If I have time, I jump online and login to the company servers to check out the schools I'm seeing and to scout out any new business. 

I'm a morning person.  Sometimes getting up at 4:00a.m. is difficult.  Most of the time, it's not so bad once I get my cup of coffee in me. 

Every now and then (most days), I run into people who I like to classify as "different" or, if you want to pronounce it like I do..."difrnt."  We have a saying in our house.  It goes like this:  "Well, that's difrnt.  And difrnt ain't always better." 

For instance, The Boy Child will say something like, "I think my left pinky toenail look like Bryant Gumble." 

To which we would reply, "Well, that's difrnt. And difrnt ain't always better." 

Or, The Girl Child will say something like, "I got bit by a hobo today.  I've got hobo rabies!" 

To which we reply, "Well, that's difrnt. And difrnt ain't always better."  (Brief explanation:  Since early childhood, both of these heathen have been intrigued by and interested in "hobos".  The hobo lifestyle has been studied and they've found the secret hobo language.  This has evolved into the belief that all homeless people are hobos.  The Spouse and I have decided not to correct this assumption because:  1. they wouldn't believe us and 2. it's not really worth arguing over.  Cupcakes are worth arguing over.  Hobos and homeless are not.)

Anyway, today I was on a major interstate and was on the lookout for a rest area.  (I have a real issue with the name "rest area."  There are no couches.  There are no beds.  There's nowhere to rest.  Before you say, "There's a place to stop and get out and use the restroom.  That's 'resting.'"  I'll say to you that it is impossible to "rest" while taking care of your toileting needs.  I defy you to tell me that's a restful experience.  It would be much better if they would simply call them P&P Areas (Pee and Picnic).

Anyway, I pulled in and parked, got out and began walking across the parking lot to the "P" area.  As I was walking a woman who had parked beside me got out of her car and began walking toward the building, too. 

Normally, I make it a point not to talk to people at rest areas.  It's a well known fact that serial killers, stalkers, creepers and hobos hang out at these places and will shank you in a heartbeat if you let your guard down.  I've imagined several different scenarios involving my untimely death, but getting shanked by some homicidal hobo-maniac at the rest area is NOT one of them.  I'm not going out like that. 

This lady looks at me and says, "I've never been to a rest area like this one before.  It just kind of snuck up on me."  I paused, turned and looked at her and replied, "Yeah...they have a tendency to do that."  And then, I sped up and made my way to the men's room. 

What the heck was I supposed to say to that comment?  Who makes comments like that at a rest area?  How did it sneak up on her?  I saw the signs from two miles back.  Evidently, she simply stopped there because she "wanted" to not because she "needed" to.  I stop because I have a NEED to stop.  This woman obviously took the "rest" part literally and was just stopping for a leisurely stroll through the picnic area. 

Those who know me know that I'm a germaphobe.  It has taken a LOT of courage and a lot of mental preparation for me to even be able to stop at these places and go in the building.  The germ factor is simply incalculable!  So, I always wash and dry my hands well, and, upon getting in my truck, pull out the antibacterial hand sanitizer and cleanse myself of the filth that has accumulated in my walk from the sink to the truck. 

As I told The Spouse about this she said, "Well, that's difrnt. And difrnt ain't always better."  That's why I love her.