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Doug Landau
Doug Landau
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Prize Winning DC Trial Lawyer "Terrible Commute"

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Guess who was the grand prize winner at last night’s DC Trial Lawyers meeting ? JMW Settlements sponsored "The Worst and Best Commutes of Last Wednesday’s Snow Gridlock". Prizes were given for "Worst Commute Home" story and "Easiest Commute" story. Doug Landau of the Herndon law firm ABRAMS LANDAU, Ltd. won the prize for the "Worst Commute" with his epic poem, set in verse:

"Snow up to my kishkas" – a story set in rhyme
(or "I’d rather be at Motions Day in Fairfax")

It was a dark and stormy night when I set forth for home in my usual way,
And I never will forget it ’til my dying day…

The afternoon saw lighting, thunder and hail,
We listened to the radio, searched on line, to no avail,

The hail turned to rain, and we thought to build an ark,
and we hurried clients out the door, as the streets were getting dark,

Then it started raining, and we thought that nothing more would freeze,
but that rain turned to fat flakes, and started snapping branches from trees.

With the wife out of town, and our youngest home alone, I called and said I’d see her at 5.
But fate conspired as I perspired, and little did we guess when I’d arrive…

My trusted yellow xTerra, the "Sponge Bob Mobile" of lore,
had low gears, big wheels, plenty of power and wheeled drive on all 4.

I was able to get the snow, hail and ice off the windows just enough to see,
that the way through the Town of Herndon was not going to go easily.

People crept and motorists stopped and driver’s patience were wearing thin,
But my trusty ride kept on the right side and never started to spin.

But then I got to the main road, the primary artery through Town,
and that’s were everyone was headed and big yellow and I got bogged down.

We tried back roads and cutting through back yards, and even a short cut or two,
but whenever we popped out, and got back on the path, we simply could not get through.

Ornamental evergreens, their boughs weighed down, soon could not hold the wet snow and came tumbling down,
Four lane roads like Reston Parkway were choked off to but one, and miles of red brakes lights lit up the town.

One hundred and forty minutes after departure for a 5 mile ride, I was no more than half way home,
I had eaten all the food that I had stopped to buy and my mind had started to roam.

Going "stir crazy," and wanting to bolt, I made a detour for the gym,
It was right there, not crowded at all, and I could bike, lift run or swim.

But after 2 hours of schvitzing in a nearly abandoned Sport & Health, I knew that I’d have to eventually depart,
So I showered, donned my snow boots, warm clothes and my commute was about to restart.

But after cleaning the windows, freezing my knuckles and blasting out of the parking garage like the "caped crusader of yore,"
I hit that red line (for now the second time), where drivers had fallen asleep, and was soon moving rapidly no more.

Evidence tends to suggest the other motorists did their best, but abandoned cars littered the street,
so even though my SUV had no problem ferrying me, the vehicular obstacles couldn’t be beat.

So I crawled home with the speedometer needle barely showing signs of life, and eventually turned into my block,
which had not been plowed, treated or salted, and where the ice had evolved into rock.

In my lowest gear with my most fervent prayers, I hope to get in the house by 9,
but I had to wait for other cars, line up my approach to the house, and basically turn on a dime.

However, with an unplowed street, and the snow in the driveway measuring in feet, I failed to make it up the drive.
Gunning it in reverse, sending mud into the yard, I started cursing that I would not make it home alive.

Then I go an idea, put the xTerra in high gear, and reversed up my neighbor’s cleared path,
And then gunned it again, going 110 and plowed into the snow with a wide swath.

Fishtailing right and left, bucking and heaving and such, I tried to get up the drive to the door,
but the "SpongeBobMobile" was through, there was nothing more to do, and we could not do anything more.

So I hopped out in the snow, got frostbite on my toe, and ferried my bags into the house in a line,
whereupon my daughter (who’s quite keen), said, "where the H-ll have you been ? Do you know it’s quarter past 9 !"

"Your office said you left at 4, did you detour to ‘Jersey Shore’ ? Over 5 hours for 5 miles is hardly the norm."
But the I regaled her with the tale of how her father, the snail, did his best to get home in the storm.

So the lesson’s been learned, as I have definitely been burned – Don’t wait to get out of the Shop,
Because if you linger, you’ll get many a "finger," and when you do arrive alive, you’ll "get a boatload of cr-p !"

Respectfully submitted, doug landau