Yaba Dabba Doo...

Yabba Dabba Doo is what comes to my mind when 5 O'clock rush approaches. Recently, I was flipping through the channels, and watched an episode of the Flintstones. I found myself reminiscing of childhood. As an adult, I oddly related to Fred Flintstone, and how joyous he felt when quitting time arrived.

I now understand the joy of a long day finally coming to a close. How fun would it be to slide down a dinosaur into the subway? Unfortunately, I have a less trilling commute home, climbing two sets of the escalator banks at the NY Port of Authority. It feels like the Stone Age with all the years of construction, and boulders. I bypassing the slow lane, rushing to my gate then to another elevator bank, where I wait, and wait for the NJ Transit bus.

Finally I get on the bus, and as we approach the NJ Turnpike I see a sign “Welcome to New Jersey”Ok. It’s not Cabo, but it will do. I start to unwind thinking about my Chardonnay chilling in my fridge calling my name. I try to block out the inevitable that I will be doing this all over again tomorrow.

Tonight, I will call my modern day Barney and Betty to come over for dinner so we can cook a brontosaurus together in my modern day Bedrock suburbs…