On the road again. It feels like a Friday but it’s really a Monday. Usually goes the other way around doesn’t it?
After a very long week at work followed by a strenuous weekend, I went back to work today. Monday. But at the end of the day I’m not going home to get ready for another day of work on Tuesday. Instead, I’m on vacation and headed down the road toward my family home in Pennsylvania!
There are a couple of clues to remind me that it’s not really Friday. Rolling down the interstate I see the trucks all pulling off the road. Into the weigh station. It’s open! On a Friday afternoon or evening, the truckers are on their own. The weighers have gone home and closed up shop. Like a stirred up nest of fire ants, the commuter traffic is horrible. Rushing home to dinner, ready to do it all again tomorrow. Friday afternoon rush hour has a different feel. The Charlotte airport was running red hot. As we passed near and through the city we saw an endless line of planes coming and going. Business travellers. By Friday the flights ease off as the travellers are home for the weekend. And finally, by 8:30 PM the only vehicles on the road, other than me, were the trucks. Workers in their commuter cars were snug in their garages, waiting to hit the road in the morning, headed to work.
Monday felt like Friday because I was on vacation. But the traffic told the real story. It was indeed Monday.
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