I AM NOT TOOTING MY OWN HORN!

It was a rainy, early work day morning, and I woke up feeling groggy with a slight headache, slightly similar to that unmistakable feeling of waking up the morning after getting your ass creamed by one too many Vodka-soaked, Jell-O shots,  resulting in a mean cookie tossing episode! I may be exaggerating, but I’m telling you, I felt pretty crappy from lack of sleep due to, not one, but two sick kids (another story for another time). 

After completing my morning rituals of teeth brushing, bathing, and finding something suitable to wear, I prepared to head out the door and make the long 40 minute drive to work -but not before taking what was supposed to be a quick hit of my so-called drug: Cafe World. I like to be out of the house by 6:40 am in order to arrive a little early before starting at 7:30 am. But of course, this ridiculous, life-sucking  “hobby”,  succeeded in warping my fragile, little mind to forget and lose all track of the time. As I looked at the clock, I muttered under my breath, “Damn it all to hell!” because according to my standards, I was going to be late.

So, I snatched up my bag, netbook and whatever else was in arms reach of me and got the hell of out dodge. It’s a good thing my husband and I have made arrangements for him to drop the kids off at the sitter in the morning, while I pick them up in the evening. Remember, he’s like a hard, over-worked Jamaican with three jobs!

Once I pulled out of the garage, I noticed it was sprinkling a bit, so I turned my wipers on low intervals. Now at this point, I must have been hearing things (better get my hearing checked since old age is upon me in just 2 short months; the dreaded 30!), because I could have swore I heard my horn honk faintly. Why is it that when you’re in a hurry, something always prevents you from getting where you need to be? Un-freakin'-believable! I was  riding on fumes and there was no possible way, I would make it twenty-some-odd miles to work! So, I hit up the nearest gas station and got to pumping.

I kept thinking to myself that something was rather off because my damn horn would honk out of nowhere! It wasn’t too loud, but it was loud enough to annoy the crap out of me! I’m no auto mechanic, but I did my best to try and attempt to solve the problem. I turned off the car alarm, stopped and restarted the engine, I even looked under the hood but to no avail. There was nothing for me to do at that point, so I braved the rain, which I love dearly, and hit the freeway. I drove at a moderate tempo to keep up with the flow of traffic, but panic set in and it quickly became an accelerated speed, dodging in and out of traffic, trying my best to avoid the quizzical stares of passerby's. But the faster I seemed to drive, the louder and more frequent the horn sounded! I’m sure you can imagine my embarrassment. Yes, I admit to having a bout of road rage here and there, so I am definitely not a driver that shies away from the horn when an idiotic, douche bag behind the wheel makes a boneheaded move. But in this particular case, I was mortified that my horn was going off at a moments notice and almost at a rhythmic pace, as though it were trying to keep the beat to that classic 80’s,  hip-hop anthem, Rapper’s Delight. Instead of bobbing my head to beat, I sunk so low in my seat (you may as well have called me Titanic) and threw the hood to my jacket up over my head so hard I’m sure I resembled the Grim Reaper.

After about 30 minutes into my commute, I exited the freeway and as luck would have it, I hit every damn red light imaginable! As if sensing my frustration, the horn beeped again for the hundredth effing time, “Beep….Beep, Beep”. As a swarm of vehicles surrounded me, I sunk down even further in my seat, praying the person in front of me wouldn’t look in his rear view mirror and get so aggravated, that the only way to relieve his irritation would be to pull the gun from his glove compartment and pump my horn-honking-ass full of hot lead.  Sitting there waiting for the light to turn green, felt like an eternity. Seriously, was this light going to change sometime this freaking century? I mean, damn, I may have sprouted a gray hair or roots waiting for that damn light to turn green. When it finally did, I damn near ran the gun-toting fool in front of me, right over.

The kicker of this little humiliating trip to work? I had to drive past three bus stops full of junior high kids! We all know what these junior high kids are like these days. I could just imagine what the hell was going through their minds at 7:20 in the morning, waiting for the bus and having some crazed lunatic drive by honking their horn every two seconds. I’m surprised the little rebels didn’t throw shit at my car! I didn’t even make eye contact or look in the direction of the little hellions. My main focus was to escape and make it out of bus stop row in tact.

Once I made it to the rear entrance of my job, I started to feel my body gradually release 40 minutes of built up tension. But then I remembered that the speed limit is 15 mph on the plant and my horn would be heard for miles at the 160 acre facility.

My horn blasted  repeatedly, which took me further to the edge, so I hit the steering wheel with my tight fist and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Shut the f--- up, you piece of shit!” I know, I know, I’m so vulgar and pretty and stupid of me to yell at an inanimate object, but at that point in time, I didn’t give a shit. It was one thing to be embarrassed in front of total strangers, it’s another to feel this same humiliation in front of co-workers who I see five days a week!

As soon as I pulled into my parking stall, I damn near shut the car off before I could place the gear into park. The rain had let up, so I really had no need to run into the building, but I did anyway, hoping none of my co-workers had reported me for being a public nuisance. Once inside, I told Alice, the Plant Secretary, about my adventurous morning. She, of course, died laughing, but with concern advised me to talk to one of the maintenance guys to see if they would be able to disable the horn. Since there are plenty of maintenance guys, I grabbed the first one I saw and repeated my unusual story to him and asked if he would be able to look at my car and work some black magic. “Sure, no problem, let’s go take a look at it”, insisted Roy.

He started the car, noticed the windshield wipers cycled and heard the horn honk once. It took him less than a minute, no joke, to  figure out, what was to me, a complex issue.

“Yeah, it’s your windshield wipers that are causing your horn to honk like that. It seems as though your wipers have been re-programmed with your horn”, he informed me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Wait, wait, wait”, I stammered dumbfounded. “That can’t be! How is that possible? Turn the wipers off and see what happens.”

Sure enough Roy’s claim was proved to be correct. With the wipers disabled, the horn did not blare.  This was weird. I’ve used my wipers before and this crap didn’t happen. That’s when it hit me. My oldest son had been playing in the driver’s seat of the car the previous evening, pretending he was driving - pushing buttons, starting and shutting off the engine – he was having a hell of a good time. Looking back, and remembering what Roy had said about the horn being re-programmed with the wipers, it only made sense that my sweet-angel-of-a-child, did God only knows, to cause me to have to drive in the rain for 40 minutes with a blaring horn, all because my damn wipers were on!!! I must be a damn fool, for not being able to put two and two together.

I called my husband at work to tell him about my morning ordeal and I think he was a little irritated with me for having a co-worker disconnect the horn. “There is no way in hell I can drive home in the rain with a horn that honks to the slightest movement of my wipers! I know how to reconnect the horn”, I told him impatiently.

“All I’m saying, is that cars were made with horns for a reason. Not for road rage, dummy; for safety”, he replied matter-of-factly.

What he said, went in one ear and out the other as I rolled my eyes, thinking to myself, “Whatever”, as though I were some annoyed teenager eager for the parent lecture to be over.

The drive home that evening was quite peaceful and a whole hell of a lot less stressful, without having  to duck and cover from the possible gun-toting-road-rage-fueled-drivers who may have been exceedingly aggravated, assuming that my ear-deafening-horn-honking-sequence was aimed at them directly.

No longer on the freeway, I had stopped at a red light in the right lane, about to make a left turn, when I glanced to my left to see a woman talking on her cell phone. Not a big deal, since we don’t have a  hands-free law, here in Nevada. When the light turned green, from my peripheral vision, it appeared the woman was about to make a U-turn since her turn was pretty tight. Once I had completed my turn, I just happened to look to my left and noticed this woman had turned into oncoming traffic! I had glanced quickly and caught sight of a school bus and began to freak out. To get this woman’s attention, I rammed the heel of my palm as hard as I could into the center of the steering wheel so the horn would snap her out of, whatever the hell this heifer was high on.   That’s when I remembered, “Oh shit! I don’t have a horn!'” I rolled my window down in a hurry and waved my arm frantically at her yelling, “Heeeeeyyyy! You’re going the wrong way!” Of course this bimbo wasn’t going to hear me, she was still on her freaking cell phone. I guess the oncoming school bus finally tipped her dumb ass off because I saw her brake lights light up the street behind her. Damn, I probably should have listened to my brainiac of a husband and reassembled the damn horn because every car has a horn for a reason. Better yet, from this point forward, I won’t ever let my almost 2 year old son, amuse the crap out of himself in the driver’s seat of my car to perform technical mishaps under my nose at my expense! From now on, I will take the bull by the horn (no pun intended)!!