Casual Carpool

I've taken the casual carpool about eight times now, and each time I hope to come out of it with a story worth telling. I don't need anything too drastic like the driver pulling a knife on me, or having pictures of young boys plastered across his/her glove compartment, or driving into the bridge railing, but a little eccentricity wouldn't hurt. Maybe the driver could be wearing dark sunglasses and a trenchcoat, and play Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" on repeat. Maybe s/he could have a caged tarantula in the back seat. Maybe s/he could at least have a really dirty car.

Nothing. The drivers, and my fellow passengers, have been disappointingly normal.

I suppose I can't complain, when I myself have not had the audacity to play out the interesting/quirky passenger. I could bring my own case of CDs, and just thumb through it and help myself to the disc player and radio. I could bring rose petals in my bag and shower them on the driver throughout the ride. I could blow some balloons and also bring along streamers and confetti to decorate the car. I could recline my seat all the way back and start meditating. I could clutch the dashboard and shriek in fear every few moments, reprimanding the driver for his/her speed even if it is entirely reasonable. Or, I could just laugh hysterically.

But I don't.

And hence, alas, I contribute to the uneventfulness of the casual carpool.