The Friday Drive Home

The Friday Drive Home

Let’s talk about one of life’s more subtle delicacies: The Friday Drive Home (FDH). If you are like me, you don’t live in a big city where walking or public transportation are your only two options for commuting to and from your place of work. In fact, they are not a feasible option at all. So you partake in a daily task, twice each day, called a “commute.”

Many consider it to be a chore; a mundane, necessary evil in order to live the quiet life in the burbs, or as I hope to one day, a more rural area. But I’d like to focus more specifically on that commute that happens at the twilight hour of each work week. That wonderful 5:00 p.m. that comes week in and week out without fail to free us from the bonds of our desks, cubicles, classrooms, sales floors, garages, construction sites etc. on Friday afternoon*.

The Walk to Your Car

It could be a couple of blocks to your car. It could be a couple hundred feet. No matter the distance, on Friday afternoon the walk to your car is centering. With each peppy step you take closer to your car, you’re one step further from work. Instead of holding a wireless mouse in your right hand, you are gripping your car keys. *Click-Click.* That’s not your phone ringing. And those flashing lights aren’t on your desk phone indicating a voicemail from your client. You just unlocked your car.

The Song on the Radio

It may be playing right when you turn the key. It might come on at the first stop light. Or it may come on right when you pull into your driveway. Sure, you may have to turn the dial a bit to find it. Maybe you resort to Spotify or Pandora. But the song is a vital part in the FDH. Nothing jump starts the weekend quite like a good jam coming on. The Biebs has made a comeback in a big way. Almost all of the songs he’s released the past couple months are :fire emoji: and I have no problem cranking up “Where Are You Now” as I am waiting at a red light.

Maybe it isn’t a Today’s Hit Music Top 40. Did you throw on the stereotypical “It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere” and roll with it? That’s completely acceptable. No other song fits the occasion better. A little ZZ Top “Just Got Paid”? Damn Straight! Maybe you are too hipster for any song or any artist that I want mention in this column. That’s really okay. Because it is my FDH, and I control the damn dial, so get the fuck out of here with your saxophone-banjo combo bullshit.

The Stop at the Liquor Store

Pause the jam. It’s back to decision making mode. Now comes one of the toughest choices you have had to make all week. What is it you want to drink for the weekend? Is it another 12er of Busch? Is the wife working tonight or tomorrow so you go for the 18? Could it be time to cut loose and live the marg life for the weekend? Obviously, you skipped happy hour because you are driving home at this point. So this decision needs to be weighed heavily and looked at from every angle. Do you have buddies coming over tonight? Are you going out later? Do you think you will be happily drinking on Sunday afternoon for the game, or are you going to be angrily popping tab after tab with every pick your QB throws? These are the questions you need to ask yourself when you walk in and are overwhelmed at the amount of booze staring you straight in the face. Choose wisely.

Pulling into Your Parking Lot

You’ve been musically jacked up. You have booze. And you are almost home. You have one more task at hand: find parking. I know this can be quite a task depending on where you live. On-street parking sucks and this can often ruin a good FDH. Maybe there is off-street parking and that dickhead across the hall in unit 8 stole your assigned spot again. None of this is an issue for me personally, as I am fortunate enough to have had ample parking at both places I’ve lived as a postgrad. But don’t fret, my friend. Better days are coming – Saturday and Sunday to be more specific. Just park the bitch and get inside.

Crossing the Threshold

You unlock the door. You walk in. Slide out of your loafers. Your pet greets you with a gentle passing rub against your khakis. How does one creature shed so much? At least you are doing laundry this weekend. Or plan to anyways. But save that thought for Sunday. Kiss the wife if she beat you home, crack open that brew or mix that stiff drink, kick back and relax. You’ve made it.

*Hours and “Fridays” may vary significantly pending on your profession, I realize that.

Image via Shutterstock

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Mainer born and raised. Boston sports. Miller Lites. Let's get drunk and eat chicken fingers..

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