New year's blush gone in a beep

As the legendary B.B. King would put it: "The thrill is gone."

Yes, we were well into week two of the school year, and the infatuation was already wearing off.

It's the same story every year.

The first day of school had the kids up and donning their new duds, raring to go way before the alarm clock started singing.

With well over an hour to go before the school bell rang, they were at the front door, loaded with backpacks and wondering impatiently, "Can we go already?"

By the end of the second week, the sandman seemed to be lingering. The kids were looking grumpy and ornery as they waved me off, burying their faces in their pillows and begging for "just five more minutes."

Unlike the kids, my dwindling romance with the new school year had nothing to do with the early morning hours.

Save for my late-teen and early 20s years when my lifestyle was a little, er, different from now, I've always been a morning person. I actually welcome the routine of the new school year that has everyone "up and at 'em," early on.

Still, I know just how my kids feel.

I realized the honeymoon was over midway through the first week of school while waiting in the car loop during a torrential downpour.

(For those who read my last column and are wondering -- no, I still have not resolved the bus ride issue with the youngest, though we are working on a compromise.)

Anyone who has done any time in the car loop knows well the dilemma of waiting in line when it's thundering and lightning.

At my daughter's school, the kids are kept indoors for safety's sake, and two lanes of traffic must squeeze into one while faculty members escort the little car riders to their cars.

That takes time -- and patience.

My way of dealing with the half-hour wait one afternoon was to settle in and thumb through the CD case to find something worth listening to, say a little B.B. King or maybe Phoebe Snow? How about some Steely Dan?

I was pondering those choices when my train of thought was shattered by the driver behind me, who was leaning on the car horn.

Oops.

It seems the car in front of me had moved an entire car length and I hadn't pulled up fast enough.

I guess the impatient driver thought beeping at me was appropriate.

Because I was craving both a Dove dark chocolate bar and potato chips and feeling more than a little irritable, well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

Besides, anyone could see that the bumper-to-bumper line of cars that trailed ahead wasn't going anywhere fast.

Which leads me to vent about the "frivolous beeper."

Frivolous beepers are always in a rush. They're the ones that give a honk the second the light turns green, never considering the time it takes for acceleration or the fact that jumping on the green isn't always a good idea, especially with Florida's reputation for red light runners.

I understand well the frustration of sitting in traffic behind someone who is so preoccupied with applying mascara, talking on a cell phone, or tending to dental hygiene (yes, there was one guy who was actually flossing his teeth) that you just barely squeak through the light.

Then, I think, a little wakeup call, a blast on the horn, is more than acceptable.

But this was the school car loop, for crying out loud, where daily traffic backups are the norm, even without the rain.

A younger, less wiser me might have leapt from the car and demanded to know, "What's your problem?"

Part of me still wanted to do that.

But I'm older now and I didn't want to get wet.

Besides, road rage -- especially in the school car loop -- just isn't cool.

Neither is frivolous beeping.

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