Quick forewarning: LOTS of profanity! With that out of the way, enjoy!
Here's a true story, the stuff of legends! If you have the time (and the attention span), sit down for a spell and let me take you on an adventure. My friends, I went into the belly of the beast today, and I am *WHOOPED!* The main setup that'll make everything fall into place, is you must understand: I hate driving, for that sole reason: *IDIOTS EVERYWHERE!* The big stuff, is I went through Downtown Baltimore in Rush Hour, almost choked in the Smoker's Den, and I made it back home alive and without ensuing lawsuits!
Damn, that alone is a mouthful (those of you who live in the city may find such an experience mundane or unextraordinary, but by my standards, this qualifies as *EPIC ADVENTURE*), but here are the details!
OK, so I'm assigned a film lighting project with a couple classmates, and one of them tells me we're going to shoot in his apartment. Sounds simple enough, right? Well, first it's very clear the guy reeks of smoke (who is admittedly addicted; so maybe I'll try and help the guy break the addition, but I digress), so I make it very clear in advance I can't do much in the apartment, since I'll be too busy clinging to any fresh air I can. It doesn't matter; smoke, perfume, cologne, sprays - it all takes away from my O2. So, what does it feel like, being in a Smoker's Den? Imagine being on a spaceship, where your air is precious and limited and there's no other place you can go. Now, imagine filling it with carbon and sulfur and all those other chemicals in your scent chemical bottles (Yeah, for those of you who buy the crap; read the ingredients, and subtract that hint of extract - whatever it may be), and that's what it's like - minus the death part. Seriously, when I got there, with the way I was coughing and trying to not breathe, I actually did produce a choking wheeze. The guy laughed, because I know it sounded silly, but I was serious about the whole "choking feeling". You smokers might not think this was such a big deal, but I absolutely *HATE* it! I also made clear, any scent chemical irritates my nasal passages and deducts from the oxygen supply, perverting it with a plethora of foreign (sometimes even toxic) chemicals (seriously, dig into your perfumes or whatever, and read the damn ingredients! I'm not joking, that shit doesn't belong in there).
So where did the guy live, exactly? Well, we meet up by Glen Complex, which is where I thought we were going to be shooting at first (Which, by the way, is on campus at Towson University), but he drives a way. All I know, is to follow the guy wherever. He makes it to the end, turns right and keeps going a ways. So I'm thinking, "OK, so we're a little bit from campus; this is OK so far." He turns into a convenience store, so I follow and park. I get to his car, find he's not there, and I'm left scratching my head. Meanwhile, some "homeless" guy comes up and asks for a handout. I tell the poor soul I don't have much as I'm a student (meaning I have to be extra pinching with money nowadays), waiting for a partner to get to me. A minute later, the guy rejoins me and we're back on our way.
We keep driving, making a few turns, and this is the crucial detail, the part that makes an otherwise mundane drive into a nightmare. There are idiots. EVERYWHERE!
It was hair-raising enough when I drove on I-695 (aka "the Baltimore Beltway"), with people cutting me off to the front, to the back (particularly when I had to get onto the beltway, since I slowed down thinking the guys will speed up, but then they slowed down, so I was running out of time before the ramp merged, and I screamed *CRAP!* And I had to speed up), getting claustrophobic to both my sides; it was crazy. That was the Beltway, at 1:30 PM! *NOW*, I get on this other expressway sort of thing, and the ramp reminded me of a roller coaster, especially that "scared to death" Feeling, and I was like *SHHIIIIIT!!* Seriously, as soon as we got on that speedway, I was booming like

, *PISS! PISS! PISS! PISS! PISS! PISS! Did I say PISS! yet?* I was like that all the way to the point where I saw the overhead sign say "Downtown." That was the moment of "oh-shit" And I was like Joker from the scene in Mass Effect 2:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ykzkk… (skip to 0:40 or 1:40 if you don't want to sit through the dialogue) Just watch as much as you want, or until you get the point. Seriously, I was squirming, *SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!* Idiots flying past me on the left, *SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!* Guys running across the street in between ever other light, *SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!* Honking and flashing strobes, "What the SHIT!* Weaving through the backwater suburbs wasn't as bad as the main drags, even though we were in black sector of town (which is where the guy actually resides; either he didn't know better and/or was desperate for that location...No offense to blacks, just a white in a full black community is bound to catch attention). So, what was the drive like? Inspired by the words of The Tourettes Guy

, "It's like taking a *SHIT!*, then you *PISS!*, ON that *SHIT!* And finally, you *FUCK!* that *SHIT-PISS!*" Yes, imagine "fucking your own shit-piss!" That's what this was like!
When we parked, I realized "Man, this is *Da 'HOOD!* At first, the way I described it was like being in 'Nam, except the weather was more pleasant. I mean, there was that feeling of an alien environment where potential enemies were part of the regular crowd, and trouble could spring from any direction. Yes, I dream of being an action hero, but here, I had no training or equipment (not even a weapon), so I've never felt more vulnerable and ill-equipped to pursue said Crusade (like what I write about in fiction). Eventually, sure I saw some thuggish personalities which made me timidly duck into the apartment room a few times, but there was a nice family sitting on the front steps, and they were there when we set up for the final leg of our project. They remarked about the crazy bright lights we were using, which gave me the chance to break the awkward ice, by explaining, "Don't worry; we're students, working on a film project for school." That helped me feel safer in the area, plus police were patrolling around. In the end, the locale wasn't *that bad*, but it still made me feel alien and vulnerable. By the end of the day when I had to get *back* (like To Hell and Back; I'm in Hell, now let's get back, out of here), I was on the phone with Mom who was at home mapping out the way with Google or whatever. While I was on the phone, some other black woman was trying to contact me, who I ignored until I hung up, hoping I could just mind my own business. But clearly, she was talking to me and not somebody else, so she asks if I was lost and needed directions. I tell her, "I was just dealing with that, and I'm fine; just a little scared." She said, "Don't worry, there's the po-lece, right over there." Sure enough, there was a cop car at the end of the street, turning around a corner. Seriously, though, that's how I felt at the end of the day: "I'm fine, just a little scared." This was at like 8PM, just for time reference.
WE planned a course through a nearby road that would turn into Route 40 (another local Maryland road, so you far-away people aren't familiar with road names unless you Google them), which would take me to Route 29; familiar territory. My buddy gave me other directions that would've taken me to the start of I-70 where it begins/ends and merges into the Baltimore Beltway. I opted for the simpler route, the one Mom gave me. So, I follow the initial directions, when I make the turn at the first stop sign, simply trusting the directions drawn out by my other guy. I'm constantly worrying about making a wrong turn since I'm in completely uncharted waters (by my personal familiarity), then I see white arrows. I raise an eyebrow, then *BU-BUMP!* I hit this *HUGE-ASS* speed bump and I'm like *OH CRAP!* Before I knew what hit me, ANOTHER *BU-BUMP!* I eventually figure it out and slow down for the next few. After putting those bumps behind (which were so high, they could've damaged my low-riding Camaro), I get to a nice drag and I see the street sign. It so happened to be the one I was looking for! I take the right onto it as instructed, realizing this is my ticket "out of here"; to Route 40 and towards familiar ground. I keep seeing the signs talking about Route 40, but one that said "Keep Right". I'm thinking, "Right? I thought we just stay on this road!" There was a turn-off there, and I got worrying if that was the way to go. I trust my gut (and what Mom told me) by staying on the same road. A minute of worrying later, I see another Route 40 sign, so I sigh in relief knowing I'm still on the right track. A few minutes of hanging on go by, and I finally see the sign to my right, "Baltimore County". I cheer like the science guys at NASA did when Curiosity touched down, because that sign told me "HEY, you're out of the city now! You're no longer in the heart of Idiot Breeding Ground!" It was downhill from here!
I ride though Route 40 some; dealing with stop-and-go traffic light conditions, which was nice compared to Rush Hour Downtown Baltimore City (If you don't know what it's like driving in a city, Google "Downtown Baltimore City"). I see a sign that tells me to get back on I-70, but I refuse, knowing, "This'll take me to Route 29, which is closer still." There are still a few speeders and idiots here and there, but it's not so densely packed with these idiots like I just got done with. I come up to Route 29 eventually, and I take a ramp, shifting around lanes as I figure out which one would be best; since one would take me South, one North, and the middle would keep me on Route 40. So I go left, weaving around traffic and I get onto a ramp. I switch lanes, but then see that lane was closed. I shriek and get back over as carefully as I can. And there were plenty times earlier today where people were right up my ass!
I follow the ramp around, then I see a landmark; some kind of Memorial sign for some Infantry Division which I reckon was one in North Korea. This was a familiar landmark since childhood. Now that I was 110% back in familiar waters, I boom *HUZZAH!* More cheering, I play-acted, "Base, we are back in familiar waters. Captain out!" It was smooth sailing for the rest of the drive...until I get to the ramp that would take me off Route 32 and into Clarksville. When I got to that ramp, my car was chugging like it was on-off sort. I remember previous experience and all the talk about being low on gas, so I decided I haven't taken my chances yet today, and now was not a good time to start risking myself. The gauge said 3/4 tank, so I knew it was broken, or else it wouldn't have been chugging. I limp it into one of the gas stations in home-turf Clarksville, put 5 dollars worth in the tank (which is roughly a gallon and a third nowadays), and went home. It still chugged, but at least I knew I'd be safe going the rest of the way home, up Route 108 and off onto my home street.
So finally, after all that craziness and horror, I make it to my driveway. I honk like I usually do to announce my arrival at home, and as I was parking, my family came out to greet me with praise. While I was neatening up my parking and watching Mom bolt out with Dad and my brother Barry following, this song came to mind, the song of triumph:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVPcoB… It was a nice and energetic strong hug I had with Mom, gushing, "Oh it's so good to be back home, and safe! I never thought I'd be saying this, but it's good to feel safe again." I had pizza anyway (from Pizza Hut; it was waiting for me upon arrival; the others back in Balto City had Papa John's; not like I could care about the brand at the point, I was just glad to be able to eat after 7 hours of fasting). I got in, settled down, and told everyone about my crazy adventure Through Hell and Back! I concluded, "You know how pilots like to say they've 'earned their wings'? Well, today I feel like I've earned my WHEELS!"
So that's the story, the legend of The Golden Knight diving into the bowels of the Idiot Breeding Grounds!