Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The 5 Worst Places on Earth

There are some places on this planet that just plain suck. Places that, when you find yourself there, make you look around and, if you're in a particularly good mood, think Good Lord, this place is awful. 

If you happen to be in a normal to grumpy mood, you might be forgiven for seeking the nearest hole in the ground or piece of drug paraphernalia.

Now, before we go on, I'm not talking about generic places like work or middle school. I'm going for specifics.

This is the list of places that I've encountered in my relatively short life that are genuinely, unquestionably, absolutely fucking awful.

5. In goal during a second-half penalty kick.
Not during a shootout, when players are tired from a game and a half of running. Not during extra time, when players are incredibly nervous because of the added significance of the moment. Nope, statistically, the worst time to be attempting to save a penalty kick in soccer (already one of the most difficult things to do) is when the kick taker has played between 45 and 90 minutes. On average, those players will convert 75% of their tries.

In penalty shootouts, results may vary. Even for the world's best strikers.
It sucks enough to be a soccer goalie. Often, they're said to have a touch of the ol' crazy upstairs, and the few keepers I'm friends with would seem to support this (what up Greg and Garrett). When the only thing between you and giving up a precious goal is 12 yards of oxygen, nitrogen, and other atmospheric gases? Forget about it. Just pick a side and hope the dude doesn't Jersey Ball it.

4. With fans of the opposing team after an eliminating loss
We've all been there. Your team is playing a huge game against some team your buddy roots for, and your boys can't come through. The teasing, taunting, shit-talking, and general buffoonery have ruined many a friendship. This situation fortunately didn't happen to me during the nearly unmentionable "2 in 17" tragedy, but it did during the actually unmentionable Helmet Catch that Shall Not Be Named or Pictured.

Pictured: a man with 54 career NFL receptions
Now, before you assume that I'm fool enough to be friends with any Giants fans, I'll tell you that these particular fans lived in the apartment next to us my senior year. The were very very loud and very very obnoxious. And of course, while we Pats fans sat in stunned silence after that diaper rash of a game, the apartment next to us was shaking with joy. I wanted to tear down that wall, Gorbachev-style, and throttle each and every person in that apartment.

3. The Braintree Split. 
Whichever drunk-ass civil engineer created this bit of pure Hell on Earth should have to drive through it in every direction, every day, during rush hour. If you don't know what this horrific over/under/over/through/around/overpass is, consider yourself lucky.

Looks fun, right?
It's the intersection of pretty much every major highway south of Boston. Words that occur on Google Autocomplete when you type in "Braintree Split" include "traffic," "accident," and "payment," the last one presumably in reference to the small part of your soul that you deposit directly into Lucifer's personal checking account every time you crawl through this horrific stretch. Half of the Wikipedia entry for the Split is dedicated to "Congestion Issues," if that give you an indication. And God forbid you have to change lanes. This is where roughly 83% of all road rage between Boston and Providence occurs.

2. The operating room.
Clearly, if you're in the operating room, something has not gone as it should have. I've had three "surgeries" in my life, though the first one was when I got my wisdom teeth out, which is pretty standard. Even still, the operating room is a terrible place to find yourself.

Please tell me that's a bowl of condoms in the foreground.

If we're going chronologically, the shittiness of the operating room sets in WAY before you show up there. Knowing you have to have surgery is one of the worst feelings in the world. Yes, you know the surgeon is ridiculously overqualified and could probably have repaired whatever's wrong with you when he/she was halfway through medical school, but it's still scary thinking about how someone is going to knock you unconscious and then slice you open.

The experience of being in the operation room? Brutal. First off, I hate needles, and operation rooms are full of 'em. So that sucks. Your fear is at an all-time high and you can't acknowledge it. So when the doc asks you "How are you feeling?" or some other bullshit thing, you have to be like, "Fine! Just great, really" when it feels like there's a nest of snakes feeding on a fresh rabbit carcass in your stomach.

Then, the aftereffects. Let's just say, they're not pretty. Dizzy, woozy, sleepy, in lots of pain, doped out of your mind, and extremely nauseous are some of the words that come to mind. All in all, what a fucking terrible place.

1. The Massachusetts RMV.

Is it RMV, or DMV? Honestly, who gives a shit. This place is truly and completely the worst. A good way to tell if something is 100% horrible is to ask yourself this question: If you didn't have to, would you still go to this place? And the answer for the RMV is a resounding fuck no. 

Everyone in this room is contemplating either homicide or suicide.
No one who has ever set foot in the RMV has wanted to be there - you were either scared shitless getting your permit/license, bored and annoyed getting your license renewed, or else reduced to a quivering rage pile due to the complete ineptitude and, even worse, abject disdain for your existence shown by the (nearly always) overweight mumbly woman behind the counter.

My friend Tim has now made two, count 'em, TWO unsuccessful trips to this black hole of blood-boiling exasperation, and has exactly ZERO to show for it besides a depleted gas tank and several hours of his life that he will never recover. All he wanted were some new Massachusetts license plates, as he now lives in Massachusetts instead of Maryland. Well, apparently you need to present an original copy of every document of personal identification ever issued to you, signed in blood by your mother's maternal grandmother's favorite clergyman.

Fuck you, RMV. Fuck you so hard.

1 comment:

  1. To that last point, I should have done all of that earlier but I hate that place so much. It's been 8 months since I've moved home and I still don't have Massachusetts license plates. Fuck that place and fuck the people who work there