I’m a wreck.
Ever have a day when you…just…couldn’t…sync up with the world around you? A day littered with obstacles, the majority of which were self-created and/or inflicted? Welcome to my Saturday.
I spent the past few days at home, nursing a fever, napping, and reading lots of books about men in tights and capes. I woke up this morning feeling better and anxious to rejoin the workforce. I punched my way through Kennedy Expressway traffic to make my way to Q101 for my 12 p.m. shift.
I walked in the door at 11:45. Dana greeted me with some surprise, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I thought Jen Jameson was on from 12-4.”
“Nope,” I said with confidence, and perhaps a trace of irritation.
I looked at the schedule posted in the studio. Oddly, it had me listed as 4-8. “I can’t believe they changed the schedule without telling me,” I said.
Dana stood up and started to look through all the previous November on-air schedules, which were layered underneath the current one. Sure enough, each of those had me listed as 4-8. Then I reached into my bag for my datebook (I’m fairly old-school in that regard). I had 4-8 written down in my datebook, as well. At that moment, it’s hard to say if I felt more embarrassment or self-loathing, though both made their presence felt. I turned around and went back home.
Back at home, I had an odd and anxious feeling, the direct result of throwing off my day’s schedule. I felt a bit like Dante in “Clerks”: “I’m not even supposed to be here today.”
When I did make the return trip downtown, I wrestled through stop-and-go traffic, a numbing trip that had me cursing the fact that the express lanes were going the opposite way. When I finally got near the Merchandise Mart, I pulled into an open-air, self-park, lot around the corner. The first spot I chose was too narrow, so I backed out of it. The spot was, in fact, so narrow that i tore my side view mirror off the second I threw my car in reverse.
To be fair, the spot does require some curving finesse:
I reparked my car, not knowing whether to scream, cry, or go back home. I opted instead to show up for my 4 p.m. shift.
Now that I’m at the station, I feel fairly safe in my studio cocoon, though I’m being extra careful to keep liquids away from the console and to not swear when my microphone is on.