Not a Standup: The Car You Know

that you wish you did not know

Note: A good friend of mine who is well versed in the world of standup very nicely told me after he read my first piece that what I wrote is funny (in parts), but in no way does it even slightly resemble standup. And I’m afraid he’s 100% correct! I would be booed off the stage within a minute, because there are no setups, no zingers, no punchlines. Which, in retrospect, makes sense, since I’m no comedian. So I hereby dub this the “Not a Standup” series, since that is far easier than to actually make a viable standup piece from my short essays. And with that, the stock image must also change:

courtesy Getty images, plus my beautiful X via Microsoft Paint

So there you go. Now, on with the “show”…

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A week ago, I was leaving my tennis club after playing with a friend.  So we both get in our cars, he’s parked two cars away, so I have good visibility as to where he is, and I…wait.  In my car.  Patiently.

I wait because I don’t want to be anywhere near him when I start driving.

This is purely a me thing – you know, it’s not you, it’s me.  My friend is a lovely guy, and he drives a lovely car.  But I want to be neither directly in front of him nor behind him.  I think being behind him is worse, but not by much.

If I’m driving behind somebody I know, I just feel – wrong.  Like I’m spying or worse, that I’m a stalker.  Mmmm, I know who you are.  I know where you live!  I actually do know where my friend lives, because I’ve been there.  Many times.

Actually, I think being in front of somebody you know is even worse, because you can see them from your rearview mirror, watching.  They may look like they’re watching the road, but no, they’re watching you.  What the hell do they want?  Why are they following me?  Are they stalking me?

Or maybe it is worse to be behind someone you know.  Because sometimes you find out that they are sticklers for the speed limit, and then you are either gnashing your teeth…or you have to pass them.  How do you do that elegantly?  Do you wave as you zoom by?  Or give them the finger, because they’re slow as fuck and shouldn’t be allowed to drive?

So anyway, back to a week ago.  I’m waiting.  And my friend is not leaving.  Is it possible he is also like me, and wants me nowhere near him?  Are we both going to stay in this parking lot, pretending to work on our phones – oh yes, this is a very important email, I must answer it right away – until the sun sets?

Even though I have this car complex, I have an even bigger complex: sitting somewhere and doing nothing.  So I pull out.  And guess who pulls out – my friend!  Goddamn, is he even my friend at this point?  The fucker.

So now what?  I guess I could pull back into my spot, but I can’t do that.  What kind of a doofus waits for ten minutes, backs out, and then slips back in?  Oh, what if I left something at the club?  But no, we spent a good five minutes packing everything into our tennis bags.  No, my fate is sealed.  For the next twenty minutes – because we live near each other, we share the same road for pretty much the entire duration of the trip – I am doomed to discomfiture.  Since I’m slightly closer to the exit, I’m the car ahead.  Lucky me.