Drinking and Driving
Drinking coffee and Driving Through Rush Hour
It is a weekday, 7:30 in morning. I am sitting at the round kitchen table, drinking my coffee, and gazing through the patio doors at the weak sunrays fighting their way to illuminate the patio’s corners. My daughter, Hannah, walks into the kitchen, dropping her backpack onto the floor and then dropping her body into the chair just across from me, asking,
“When are we leaving?”
Upon hearing this question, my body tenses up, and I can feel my stress levels escalating. I sharply answer,
“In ten minutes.”
I can feel my body tense even further while I wait for her response, preparing my arguments in case she will argue her wish to leave the house later. Hannah puts her headphones on and dives into her iPhone’s world. After five minutes, I walk to the house’s entrance, opening the door and walking to the car, leaving the house door open in a silent message for my daughter to hurry up. Entering the car, I sit at the driver’s seat, turning on the engine and then pulling out of the driveway. While waiting for my daughter to join me in the car, I feel my stress reaching new heights, and when she joins me in the car, after a couple of minutes, it seems as if the air is crackling with tension.
We are driving out of our complex, the deafening silence between Hannah and I feeding my stress. I join the heavy traffic on the roads, driving through the streets, cars all around me, pedestrians walking on the sidewalks while others choose to cross the street without any crosswalks in site. The tension in the car continues to grow, it seems as if the air has become thicker, suffocating me. I open the window to let in some fresh air; however, loud sounds gush in, as well. The noises and vibrations of an aircraft flying above, the SkyTrain zooming by, as well as the buses, trucks, and tens of cars driving by. Red lights everywhere whispering, ‘watch out, be aware,’ and high-rise buildings standing erect like a brigade of soldiers dressed in their shiny uniforms, reflecting the sun and blinding those passing by.
To the deafening sounds from outside the car, my daughter decides to add her extremely loud music as she connects her iPhone to the sound system in the car. The atmosphere inside the car combines with the ambiance outside of the car, feeling like a war zone. I am on high alert with all my focus on the road, and I am unable to communicate with my daughter emotionally, rationally, or verbally as I drive her, everyday, to school.