A F F I L I A T E D

04. T H E S T Y L I S T

Merideth Morgan.

July 28th, 2011. Prospect Points. Brooklyn, NY. Dean Street Park. 

5:08 am

After a twenty minute ride on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway I am well aware of why the BQE is the most hated highway in New York. The uneven asphalt, sharp turns, narrow lanes and the assembly line of tow trucks on the side of the road are a constant reminder that accidents are most likely to occur every five minutes. Not to mention daily construction is the main cause of traffic jams and lane closures, yet for the past 20 years nothing has changed and nothing ever will.

Yet with all its imperfections, none of that mattered today.

The curse words that I would normally yell out after slamming on my breaks because a seventy year old woman who can barely see over the steering wheel managed to scare herself and her chocolate Labrador Retriever seated in the passenger seat­­­ wearing a seat belt – like all good passengers should be – due to a sudden lane shift, never made it off my tongue. Today those obscenities went unheard as "Late Nights And Early Mornings" put my mind at ease and prepared me for the day ahead. On a day like today the millions of potholes that dressed the BQE were the least of my worries.

Turning right on Atlantic, I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer asking God for an accidental free day. I'm the true definition of a klutz and today I was hoping that I left my clumsiness – along with my tendency to ramble when I'm nervous – back in Astoria because I could not afford one of my episodes.

Glancing at my dash checking the time for the thirteenth time since I left my apartment, I smiled glad that I could scratch being late off my list. I'm scheduled to be on set at 5:45 and after doing a practice drive yesterday morning I should have almost all green lights and be able to make it to set no later than 5:25.

Practice drive.

It's a habit that I formed after being late to every class on my first day of freshmen year in college. My biggest pet peeve is being late and after that experience I went to great lengths to make sure I was never that person. "Time is everything, cherish every minute and waste no seconds", are the words my grandfather repeated every time I saw him. He argued that the younger generation of the Morgan family were in our own world and never saw the bigger picture in life. But I saw it and I live by that quote every day. Whether it's me or someone else, I'm obsessed with being early to everything. So obsessed that when I have an appointment or I'm going somewhere I've never been I do a practice trip the day before so I have a more accurate time of when I need to wake up, what time I should be walking out the door and how many times I plan to utilize my horn in an effort to wake up the non-driving people that are still sitting at the light ten seconds after it has turned green. Another pet peeve I own.

Passing the Atlantic Center reminded me that if time allowed and I haven't spent my entire day on set I would stop by the Salvation Army around the corner to see if they had anything interesting that I could buy to work on. I learned a few years ago that the best place to find things are the last place people want to walk into. The words "second-hand" or "donated" use to scare people away, but those same places have the best vintage pieces in their collection at unbelievably low prices. Thanks to tumblr and pinterest, now everyone else knew it as well making it harder to find anything good in Goodwill or any other thrift store for that matter.

"I wish I didn't feel the blame anymore why'd you go away why'd you let me down", I softly sang the chorus to Chasing Clouds by Marsha Ambrosius before quickly rubbing my hands on my seat and pulling my left leg onto it as I stopped behind a short line of cars that I'm sure were trying to access Dean street for the same reason I was.