Finally, it's my turn to get on the freeway, so I stop at the signal (still half asleep of course). Finally I get the green, and as if in slow motion, during that brief milisecond between my brain telling my foot to press the accelerator down, I hear something fall from the sky through the sunroof and hit the center console by the radio.
At this point my car is now moving down the ramp so I can merge on. Of course, if you're unfamiliar with our freeways you should understand, this is always done at full acceleration (much like that scene in Clueless). So I'm rapidly gaining speed so I can slip in between traffic, while trying to look down and see what that noise was. That's when I found myself eye–to–deathray with a bee.
I squealed (insde my head), and quickly rolled every window down. As I worked my way to the #2 lane, I kept glancing over at the death monkey riding beside me to make sure he stayed on his side of the car. Of course, despite the wind whipping around car, the gods' cruel little joke just sat there mocking me.
I'm not entirely sure how, but I drove all the way down to the Santa Monica Fwy with one eye on the road, and the other on the bee that I'm certain would have killed me the second I'd taken my gaze off him. I kept hoping he would fly off or get blown out a window, but fucker didn't budge.
I somehow made it to work alive and shooed it from my car with a Trader Joe's bag and a shrill scream.
In other crazy bad omens, my car's GPS seems to think I'm parked at Dockweiler beach. Actually, to be specific, it thinks I'm parked on the beach, about to drive into the ocean. I hope it clears itself up on the drive home. All that salt water isn't good for the paint.