The first week of the new job is in the books and, as it always seems to be when you get that week under your belt, I'm settling in to a comfort zone. No more self doubts or nervous trips to the bathroom. My job involves driving the freeways of Las Vegas, reporting back on the flow of traffic. If I'm lucky, I can report on an accident and give the fellas back at traffic central the specifics needed for a spectacular report. The job is really a no-brainer, yet the more I think about it, I believe I may have one of the more stressful jobs in town.
See, Las Vegas drivers are insane. While this fact isn't clinically documented, I can say from 13 years of driving this town that when people get behind the wheel here, something in the inner workings of cerebrum and cerebellum just don't fire. Back in the days of going to KWNR for work, the most hazardous parts of the day were the drives to and from the station. Now, it's all that I do! I'm constantly stuck in the insanity. My respect for cab, bus, limo and shuttle drivers has never been higher.
Still, (paraphrasing Carrie Bradshaw), I can't help but wonder: why aren't the powers that be at Beasley Broadcasting understanding that I can be so much more of a help to them doing an airshift than I can reporting on traffic flows for :10-:15 seconds at a time? There has to be a better use for me than this. Or, am I just overrating my abilities and my accomplishments? That's another problem with just driving around: Lots and lots of time to just think.
In approximately four hours, I'll be in the air, heading to Milwaukee to help my parents celebrate their 50th anniversary. It's been a union strengthened by martinis (mom) and Miller High Life (dad) and if that's what it takes for a marriage to work, then I'm all in.
And yes, someone else is driving us to the airport, thank God.