If I Only Had a Name.

This is my platform to explain why I should be a super hero. As the worlds of work, school, wedding planning, and 10pm flag football games collide (whoa, that's a lot of worlds), it seems that I really should break out the old super hero suit that's somewhere in my closet (I think it's next to the 1997 Sweater Vest Collection I own.) After all, desperate times call for desperate measures. It's time to blow my cover in the name of getting things done.

I'm pretty surprised most of you haven't suspected me earlier. Like many other unassuming members of the proletariat who fight for justice between the hours of 10pm and 4am, I have many characteristics that are dead giveaways. Consider the following...

• Peter Parker. Matt Murdock. Bruce Banner. Clark Kent. Chris Condon. It seems the Double Initials Clause comes from the Ancient Pedigree of Superheroes. And it that's the bill, I fit it.
• Because of where I live, it's very clear that I'm a member of the DC Comics family.
• The establishment doesn't cut me much slack. Just like the police were quick to persecute Spider-man, the media conglomerates Cox Communications and Work Laptops, Inc. insist on making the usual rather unusual.
• Shoulders that don't fit through doorways.
• I can leap Floridian fields in a single bound (and pray I don't get lamposted.)

The list goes on of course, but I trust you all to believe me fully after five loosely-strung premises. Right? Anyways, if you're gonna be a hero, you're gonna have to have some rivalries. Arch-villains are out there to meddle, wreak havoc, cause chaos, and prevent Rob from getting his free IPod (go help the boy out, wouldya?) Well, I've got my own arch-villains, and driving home from the aforementioned football game last night, I had my second encounter with none other than...Nightpaver.

Nightpaver may seem unassuming and docile, but he's a nemesis if I've ever met one. Our history is long and storied. The first encounter took place in the summer of 2002. Our hero (me.) was doing the thoughtful, good-natured deed of giving everyday citizen #1 (we'll call her Jane Elizabeth) a ride home to her palatial estate in Leesburg. (For you Jersey folks, that's like giving someone a ride home to...Ohio.) The evening was growing dark at 11pm, and our hero (still me) was running out of time to make it back to HQ. Driving the Condmobile along Rte. 7 is no easy task on a normal day. Unfortunately, all I could do was pray for a normal day.

From the shadows of the night, Nightpaver swooped down on the highway ahead. WHOOSH. He quickly made short work of the ribbon of road ahead, tearing up the left half and leaving uneven, course asphalt in his wake. GRIND. With the other half of the road, he unleashed his loyal army of "Department of Transportation" vehicles to slow out progress from lumbering to crawl. Caught by surprise, our hero was rendered helpless in a traffic jam of Gheorghe Muresan proportions.

Oh, but revenge is so sweet. Last night, Nightpaver struck again, but this time, he hit close to home (the Beltway.) But this time I was ready. As I watched in a horror as a semi truck plowed through 10-12 of Nightpaver's cones (he was a little too far over in his lane), I hit the jets. Eluding the now airborne cones and steering clear of the Jersey barrier to my left, I accelerated around Nightpaver's trap and floored it to my exit. After all of that, waiting at a traffic light for ten minutes only a half mile from my apartment for once seemed kind of nice. The score is tied, my old nemesis. Bring it.

Now, loyal readers, you know the epic backstory of why I would make a good superhero. Your mission is to give this alter ego a name.

(scans today's ridiculously long post).

And no, I won't be Captain Verbosity. It's taken.