Commuting in Washington DC is like any metropolis, no joy. It is a purgatory between office and home or vice versa this time of the year.
On the road, the already jammed traffic is exacerbated by darkness. The kind of darkness that is not dark enough for the headlights to do their job but too dark to drive relying on memory alone. I have to rely on my secret weapon, a pair of driving glasses saved for time like this.
What is hard on the eyes is equally torturous for the ears.
Traffic reporters on the radio begin to sound like a broken record after sitting in traffic listening for over an hour. Instead of navigating out of this mess, the reporters are describing the mess I am already in. How more frustrating can it get!
So here I sit. My exhausted body is pulling overtime while the car is inching along the stream of tail lights. The only consolation is that I am in good company. Couldn’t help but feeling like an animal, albeit paid, in a squirrel cage singing the commuter’s blue.