Taken for a ride in traffic school
FOR much of my adult life, one phrase has stuck in my head with regard to dating: “You must put yourself in a target-rich environment.” So after countless hours spent at sporting events and bars, the gym and Home Depot, imagine my surprise when I realized that all I really had to do was go to traffic school.
When did traffic school become the new pickup joint? Walking into a run-down YMCA auditorium on Sunday morning, it never occurred to me that I would spend the next eight hours seated between a 27-year-old hunk and a handsome 50-year-old with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. It was difficult to know which way to turn. Do I look to my left and study the strong shoulders, narrow jaw and muscular legs, or do I turn to my right and meet the owner of those gentle baby blues, adorable crooked smile and comforting laugh lines?
I’m not saying I was sitting in a room full of Calvin Klein underwear models. There was a cast of colorful characters: the sassy mother of four, the outspoken trucker, the bewildered teenager and, my favorite, an octogenarian who screamed and shook her fist at those of us whose tickets were for speeding. For a minute I thought she was going to demand my car keys. But despite glares from disapproving senior citizens, there was unabashed flirting going on in “the speeding corner.”
When you think about it, being stuck in a room with someone for eight hours has many advantages. The day is spent sharing jokes and stories, and you already have one commonality -- you broke the law. What about his body language? Does he stay awake in the class or fall asleep? And what was the reason for his ticket? Did he speed (aggressive), run a red light (careless) or make an illegal U-turn (defiance)?
After an awkward smile or two from the 50-year-old, I set my focus to the young beefcake. He seemed interested, asking lots of questions, laughing at my jokes and, metaphorically, pulling my pigtails. When we broke for lunch, I half expected him to invite me along, but he peeled out of the parking lot in his sports car. Would that be the end of our dalliance? Not likely.
We discovered we were neighbors, although I had never seen him before. Would geographic desirability lead to a date? As the afternoon wore on, the class seemed to pick up on our trifling -- the sassy mom being my biggest cheerleader. “Go for it!” she whispered in my ear.
As the class neared a close, I wondered what I would say if he asked for my number. After all, he may have been adorable (and knew it), but he was young. No need to worry, though -- class ended and again the sports car sped out of the lot.
An hour later I was driving to meet a friend and I saw the young stud running down my street in nothing but very tight shorts and a sweatband. It was at that moment that I wished I had made a U-turn in class and focused on the 50-year-old. I guess if I hadn’t been speeding, I wouldn’t have missed the signs. At least my DMV record stayed clean