Reflecting again on a tumultuous year. It’s coming up on the anniversary of my crashing and burning on trolley tours. Thinking of an old trolley friend that had to talk me off the ledge every morning – “Don’t rage quit, Cubbie!”


Leaving that one, I went immediately into another toxic job. More of the same; 15-hour days, no work/life balance, only driving a bus painted a different color. I finally landed some relief in August, right around the corner from where I live.

It took months to recover. I did the math, it was back around the end of March that the demons finally started to recede. Seven months. I still irritate easily, but nowhere near the magnitude of what was a daily occurrence.

Stress can lead to health issues and other such things. One of my coping mechanisms has always been brown, distilled beverages. I did have a “Dry July” last summer. But I did return, although in far more moderation than I used to. (Trust me, it was a daily occurrence, and I was concerned enough to quit for a while.)

In any case, that finally leads me to my muse. Perhaps you’ve heard of this “tariffs” thing that has been going on. I walked into my local package store Friday, and was actually astonished at the threadbare nature of many of the shelves. I checked a few imports, but curiously, the price hasn’t really spiked yet. Perhaps this was the last of the “before-time” stock.

It was noticeable enough that I talked to the Manager-On-Duty about it. He did say that some of the tariffs were starting to kick in, but what was more of a problem was the mass layoffs in the local trucking industry, as well as an ongoing strike at a major alcohol distributor. There is a supply, but there’s limited means to get it to the final destination.

But wait – there’s more. I still drive that other toxic bus, but on my terms now. (I call them when I feel like driving a few hours.) In any case, our base is in South Boston, near both the cruise terminal and the container terminal. When I drove in Saturday, I again observed no container vessels present at the port. What was rather striking though, was the complete lack of any activity on the quay.

There’s usually hundreds, if not thousands of containers being moved around. Gantry cranes are always moving, and trucks are coming and going at all hours of the day and night. But not Saturday. There were no containers visible. The cranes were idle. The roads were empty.

MAGAts can drink all the Flavor-Aid they want. My own eyes tell me something very bad is about to happen.