Mornings are hard....

Here is an actual email I sent to my office in order to explain why I was late to work (rarely happens!) a week or so ago. Reading over it today i decided it belongs here:

On January 30th, 2009, I arrived at [middle school x] at 9:45 AM. Though I did not miss any scheduled classes for that day, I did come to work an hour an a half late. I apologize for my tardiness and offer this explanation.

The night before I had driven down to Otsuchi-machi in Iwate to stay at a friend's apartment. The times I had done this previously I would leave for Takizawa at 4 AM and arrive back in town well before the start of school. This particular morning, however, I bumped back my departure to 6 AM, thinking I'd drive straight to work. While I left promptly at that time, traffic apparently caused by an accident on one of the small roads outside of Otsuchi meant that it took a full hour to get out of Kamaishi, a trip that usually lasts 20 minutes. Soon my car and i found ourselves trapped in the bumper-to-bumper shuffling grid of south-central iwate rush hour (which, confusingly, exists. When I realized, quite belatedly in retrospect, that I would not arrive at work anytime around 8:15/30, I pulled over to call the company. I also purchased a sandwich at this time (delicious). My car soon was soon back in that bizarre phenomenon of inaka rush-hour traffic. Escaping this, I made good time heading west through the mountains at my car's top alpine speed of 60 km/hr. At some point, most likely while busy wondering if I would actually get there in time for my first class, I missed a turn somewhere and ended up... somewhere else. I don't know where. Lots of cattle, though. I followed signs for the misleadingly-named Kamaishi expressway (which curiously starts in Hanamaki city and ends at Hanamaki Aiport... rougly 60 km short of its namesake). I picked up that highway and took the toll road north traveling at speeds previously thought impossible in my current vehicle. Deemed impossible, in fact, or at least a very bad idea, by my mechanic at my last inspection. I got to school just in time for second period, grabbed my materials, and spent a surprising amount of time teaching some 15-year-olds how to pronounce "discipline."

[from then I do some very sincere knee-scraping which I will spare you. in the end, nobody got hurt and i didn't get fired. hoorah.]