So I’m driving along to work on Route 17 out of
Bagman suddenly shouts, “Hey! I want my Red Bull!”
Bagman goes berserk, shouting, “But I’ve conceded to the sugar free!” Then, without warning, he snaps off his seatbelt, grabs the camera and screams, “Let’s take pictures from a moving car!!!”
I’m going slow because there is a stoplight coming up, but I don’t like this one bit. I glance over but Bagman is already shooting. I start to tell him to put his seatbelt back on but
“The Bridge! Take pictures of the Bridge!” Bagman knocks
“Hold on just one minute!” I yell, knowing that I, as well as all the other cars, usually take the new bridge at between 70 and 79 mph. (Don’t tell the police, although I think they already know and sometimes – but rarely – set up radar). Although I’m screaming at Bagman too, I’m not really too concerned since Fu and I (sometime I’ll blog about why I named him “Fu Manchu”) know each other well and have even done some amateur racing together (another blog for yet another time).
Bagman is now standing straight up in the seat and I’m wishing I had listened to
“I love to shoot from moving cars,
It’s better than drinking in the bars
If it were night we could shoot the stars
Tra la la la la!”
“La doesn’t rhyme with stars,” mumbles
By now we are on the Crosstown and I’m hoping that Bagman is done. Or at least, since we’re not too far from my job, I’m hoping none of the cars around me are being driven by my colleagues who will give me a hard time about this. A woman passes on my right and gives me the finger. Who does she think she is, I roll my eyes. She's talking on a cell phone. I'm just taking pictures. I've seen people driving to work reading the newspaper!
Bagman is not quite done. “That church place!” He yells. “Let’s get a picture of the house where the guy has painted the side with religious stuff!” Unfortunately, it is on the other side of the road, so Bagman leans across the driver’s side to shoot it. Since I am in the driver’s side (because I am supposed to be driving), he leans across me and his huge barrel chest crushes mine and his thick beard gets in my eyes. My nose also figures out pretty quickly, unlike
I’ve never wanted to get quickly to work so badly and, oxymoronically, driven so carefully and slow on the Crosstown before. Thankfully, Bagman has tired a bit already of this sport, the result of being refused his Red Bull. But he still takes two more pictures before I turn right after the hospital and into my parking spot.
Stuffing the camera angrily back in the bag, I slam Fu’s door and stomp into the building where I work, ignoring Bagman and Butler who are untangling themselves and carrying on their usual debate. At the elevator, I run into Miles who looks at me strangely and says, "What on earth were you doing back there? I was sure you were going to sideswipe that schoolbus!"