One for the Road

Just returned from taking my roommate to LAX. Sigh. It's a crummy morning, waking up at 7:00 to drive to a large airport jammed full of holiday traffic, then sitting in more traffic all the way up Sepulveda until finally arriving back at home close to 8:30.

I don't mind doing the occasional favor for friend and roommate, but I do sometimes have the distinct feeling I'm being taken advantage of. I have a comfortable, roomy kind of car, whereas my roommates have (1) an old Cadillac with extremely poor gas mileage and a leaky transmission problem and (2) a Toyota from the Silver or Bronze Age that magically still runs. Seriously, the very idea that my roommate Chris drives this up the 405 to work every day proves that he is a man of great faith and serenity. This is a car that would make Xzibit grimace. It doesn't just need pimping, it needs a doctorate in pimpology.

So, I end up driving most places, which is usually fine, unless I have had a few cocktails, in which case it is fine but potentially life-threatening. But after driving one friend to the airport (twice!) to fly to Texas on stand-by, driving another friend to Orange County to fly out of John Wayne Airport (where you can't fly if you're a filthy red savage!) and today taking Chris to LAX, I feel like I've done enough airport shuttling trips to earn at least 3 years of good "ride" karma. It's exhausting, being this good a person.