I dare you

[resonant]

resonant for some reason is imagining a new show called Stargate: Atlanta
resonant: in which they're just stuck in traffic all the time
resonant: and you can get a whole ep out of the day the air conditioner breaks.
shalott: bwahahahaha
shalott: dude
shalott: post that to lj
resonant: OK, why not.
shalott: and invite people to write drabbles for it
shalott: in the comments
shalott blithely arranges for you to be spammed with mail for my entertainment

[note. You can take them out of cars occasionally. I assume even people in Atlanta sometimes do something other than drive, such as work at the airport and stuff.]

Comments

[ficklememeer.livejournal.com]

ROTFLMAO! Oh god...

[sloanesomething.livejournal.com]

Captain Reggie McCree was in a heap of trouble.

"Dammit!" he shouted, slamming the steering wheel with all his might.

Beside him, the plucky, attractive, yet capable and feminist Corporal Lee McGenderNeutral, shook her head. "Reg," she said, "that won't make us go faster." Their long and USTie history let her make such remarks with a quiet, accepting authority, and he looked over and nodded, knowing she was right.

There was a little click from the dash, a groan, a sigh. The air conditioning had died.

From the backseat, Nick Cannon, the half-cocked, cocksure cocksucker from Virgon (that new housing development just outside the city limits) leaned forward. "No!" he shouted. "NOOOO!"

Reggie did what he could - rolled down the windows.

As one, they looked toward the road ahead, clogged with cars, the heat shimmering across the windshield.

"We won't survive," Lee breathed.

"The rest," Reggie said solemnly, "is up to God."

[thermidor.livejournal.com]

Stargate: Atlanta
If this program is on Showtime, it oculd be set in the suburb of Cumming. (no, that is not made up)

[daughtershade.livejournal.com]

"Why is it that we have to commute to work together again?" McKay whined from the back seat.

John squeezed the steering wheel with a death grip. He glanced over at Ford who was trying to use his ball cap as a fan. It apparently wasn't doing much good from the look on the young man's face. McKay had been whining since they picked him up and he'd lost the coin toss for shotgun. Ford had been grinning when they had left Rodney's apartment complex, but the grin had slowly faded exponentially as the heat rose.

"And why do we have to take your car, John? It's a piece of shit."

"Not all of us make the big bucks like you do, Mr. Technology Supervisor, so shut it already," John growled.

"Why haven't you gotten the air fixed yet anyway?"

"Because it's only May. It's not even technically summer yet. Well, that and I had to buy a new surf board."

"Oh yes, heaven forbid you not have the essentials at home. In a land locked state no less. I still don't know why I'm doing this. I have a perfectly good car at home."

"Because, Doctor," Ford said, filling the title with as much contempt as possible, "some of us need the eco friendly bonus the company gives out."

John added, "Yeah, and two does not a car pool make. If you love your car so much we can start taking it."

Ford snorted. "He never wants to drive."

"That's because he doesn't want to get up early enough to pick both of us up."

"If Teyla wasn't on vacation, we could have taken her car." Ford pointed out. The honking from the other cars was as oppressive as the heat.

"Oh no," McKay said, "I hate riding with her. She drives like she's not even from this planet."

"Well at least she doesn't drive like a little old lady," John sneered. He caught McKay's offended expression in the rear view mirror and had to grin. Thankfully, Rodney flopped back into his seat in a sulk.

"I do not drive like a little old lady," he mumbled angrily. John and Ford exchanged an amused glance as the car creeped forward in the early morning traffic.

[misspamela.livejournal.com]

"Listen, I have a PhD. in Astrophysics--"

"And you still can't fix an air conditioner? Wow."

"I'm sorry, who lost the manual? That would be you."

"I didn't think we'd need a manual. It's an air conditioner. Here. Let me."

"You're turning it the -- no, you're breaking it! Let me --oh."

"Pfft. Manual."

"How did you do that? God, that feels good."

"Good enough that we could maybe have sex now? Because I'm sick of sitting here naked."

"There was no way I was having sex in this heat. I could stroke out or something."

"But it's not hot now."

"Not so much, no."

"And I'm still naked."

"Yes, you are."

"I fixed the air conditioner."

"Are you begging? Please, get a hold of yourself."

"Rodney!"

"Okay, okay. Far be it from me to deny my public--"

"I'll give you your public."

"What was that? Hmmm? Something about giving me something?"

"If you would get on the -- mmmmm, yes."

"Better?"

"Mmmm...God, yeah."

"Oooohhh..."

"Yes, oh, nnngghhh...Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"I might stroke out."

[daughtershade.livejournal.com]

PS... I know Georgia is not land locked but A) Rodney is from Canada and B) who the fuck goes surfing in Georgia? I have a vision of this John's apartment with a kick ass surf board hanging on the wall like artwork. Occasionally, he'll stop to look at it and sigh forlornly. Aw.

[sinden.livejournal.com]

lunchtime quick and twisting it a little. :)

"Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?" John shifted uncomfortably in his seat and scrubbed his hands against his trousers.

McKay tapped something into his handheld, either ignoring John's question or too focused to take note of the words. "Are we there yet?"

"No, Rodney, we're not there yet. We're still in a holding pattern."

Rodney looked up and cocked his head to the side, commenting absently, "You know, this used to be so much easier when you were the only one who could actually fly a jumper. And before we worked out how to build them."

Then he shrugged and went back to whatever he was doing, leaving Sheppard alone with his thoughts.

"Tell me about it. It's worse than Newark." Craning his head to the side, Sheppard tried to make out what it was that Rodney was so engrossed in. "Are you playing Tetris?"

Rodney shot him a incredulous look. "Don't you have something better to do? Like flying?"

"We're stuck in traffic, Rodney." John smirked, glad that he'd managed to grab at least some of McKay's attention because, frankly, waiting was boring as hell. You'd think the Ancients would have at least installed something fun to pass the time with in the jumpers -- they pretty much had everything else -- but, no. So the next best thing was to poke McKay into arguing with him. Or, at the very least, talking to him instead of doing whatever the hell he was doing. "Besides, you can fly if you want to."

"And have you looking over my shoulder the entire time?" Rodney retorted. "I don't think so, Colonel. I'll just stay here and be a good little passenger instead of having to deal with your obsessive backseat flying."

"You are so playing Tetris. You know it's rude not to share --" John wiped at the trickle of sweat that ran down his temple, distracting him from his point. "It really is getting hot in here."

"What did you do?"

Rodney was beginning to look a little dewy himself, John noticed, as Rodney started to make the realisation for himself. "Me? I think I'm offended by your insinuation, McKay."

"Yeah, right." Rodney rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt away from his chest. "Seriously, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." John protested, just as the heads up screen popped into life with a flicker of light. Scanning the readouts, he shot Rodney a triumphant smile and pointed to one in particular. "See? I told you I didn't do anything."

"How nice for you." Rodney commented, as he pushed out of his chair and headed for the rear control boards. "However, that means that unless I can reverse whatever glitch has hit the cooling system, it's going to stay like this -- maybe get hotter -- until we land. Do you like saunas, John?"

Sheppard only watched long enough to see Rodney pull open one of the access panels before radioing in. A hot Rodney was a cranky Rodney and no one, especially him, deserved that. "Atlantis, please tell me we have an ETA for landing in the next five minutes?"

[carolyn-claire.livejournal.com]

"How far is it now?" Beads of sweat stood out on McKay's forehead. Teyla dabbed at them gently and tried to smile encouragingly.

"We're about two inches closer than we were five minutes ago." John frowned into the rear-view mirror, his hands twisting on the steering wheel.

"I'm not going to make it," McKay moaned.

"You will, Doctor. We will surely be around the obstruction, soon." Teyla glanced out the front windshield, the fire of hope in her eyes flickering with doubt as she looked down the long line of vehicles, stretching out ahead of them further than the eye could follow.

"Don't say 'obstruction,'" McKay moaned, closing his eyes.

"Try taking slow, deep breaths." From the front seat, Ford fanned McKay with a folded newspaper. Sweat trickled, unheeded, down his own neck. The heat was stifling, sweltering, but McKay's need was much greater than his own.

"Dammit!" Sheppard struck the steering wheel once, twice with the heel of his hand, the lines on his face a roadmap of frustrated self-recrimination. "It should have been me. I should have taken the bran muffin, and let McKay have the doughnut."

"It was not your fault." Teyla reached forward to grip Sheppard's shoulder, her eyes deep wells of concern. "This construction was not marked."

"And no one knew the coffee was that strong." Ford shook his head. "It's nobody's fault."

McKay writhed and squeezed Teyla's hand tightly. "It's too far to the turn-off." He gasped, then turned to look out the side window, his eyes wide and pain-filled. "I'll have to get out here. You all...go on without me."

"McKay, no!" Sheppard turned in his seat to face him. "Just hang on! We're a team, and we're going to stay a team. We don't leave anyone behind."

McKay gripped Sheppard's headrest. "We're only going two feet per hour--I can make it back."

Ford curled his lip. "Dude, if you crap out there on the shoulder, there's no way you're getting back in this car with us."

Next to McKay, Teyla hesitated, then slowly, reluctantly nodded. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I have to concur." She gestured at the cars surrounding them on all sides. "Surely someone I work with is in one of these vehicles."

McKay stared hopelessly into her eyes; with a sad shake of her head, she dropped her gaze to their joined hands. He swallowed and nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, I know, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, then shifted uncomfortably in his seat and faced forward, again. "I wasn't thinking. I can do this."

"I know you can, buddy." Sheppard's eyes met McKay's, again, in the rear-view mirror. The look that passed between them spoke volumes. "I know you can."

Together, they rolled forward another two inches.

[tafkarfanfic.livejournal.com]

Now I have an urge to write the one where they all go to Backstreets. Only it closed a year or two, didn't it? And the Masq closed too, right?

Er...Clermont Lounge?

*ohgodohgodnotaClermontLoungefic...*

[someinstant.livejournal.com]

(Hi. You don't know me from Adam, but I thought, "I live in Atlanta. I could do this.")


McKay fidgeted in his seat. The sun slanting in through the windshield was hitting him full in the face, and even though the air was on full blast, his face prickled with sweat. He reached for the vent again, tilting it first half an inch this way, then half an inch that way, then angling the blades up, then down, then--

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Rodney asked, peevishly. "Don't try and save myself from heatstroke?"

Sheppard's forehead wrinkled above his sunglasses; there had probably been an eye-roll somewhere behind the lenses. "No, Rodney," he said with false patience. "I know you. You were about three seconds away from ripping the vent out of the dashboard and trying to upgrade the A/C with a coathanger and a stick of gum while the engine was still running."

Rodney grunted. "I could have done it."

"I know you could," John said. "It still doesn't mean it's a good idea." They sat in silence for a moment.

"Could we at least turn on the radio?" McKay asked at last. The breaks on the eighteen-wheeler to their right sounded like they were moments away from failing, and Rodney thought he'd prefer to be distracted by bad pop music or NPR when that happened.

"No." Ten minutes after leaving Hartsfield, John had turned off the radio, and forbid McKay to touch it. Apparently, John didn't appreciate Rodney's clever critiquing of radio programming.

Rodney let his head fall against the window with a thunk. It wasn't like he could even amuse himself by looking at the scenery; they were walled in by tractor trailors on all sides-- and even if they hadn't been, it was just a lot of pines. And kudzu.

Pines covered with kudzu, actually-- and really, they almost looked like topiaries. Really crazy ones, the kind that Edward Scizzorhands might have designed. The one squeezed between the black H2 three cars up almost looked like the Horsehead Nebula, and the one next to it looked a little bit like Oscar the Grouch....

"McKay." John sounded amused. Or pissed off. Sometimes it was a little hard to differentiate.

"Hmm?" The trailor ahead of them inched forward.

"Is there any reason why you're humming the theme to Sesame Street?" John asked while simultaneously leaning on the horn, flicking off a Miata with a Keep honking while I re-load bumper sticker, checking his rearview mirror, sliding one lane to the right, and earning himself at least twenty new enemies in a single move.

The eighteen-wheeler in need of a break job was now directly behind them, a situation with which Rodney was not entirely comfortable.

"Did you even bother to signal, Major?" Rodney bit out, trying to pretend that he was just, you know, stretching his right leg. And not stomping furiously on an imaginary break.

"When in Rome, Rodney," John replied. "And-- Sesame Street?"

"Kudzu. Oscar the Grouch." Rodney shrugged. "I don't expect you to follow."

"Gotcha."

Silence decended once more. Rodney was still hot. The eighteen-wheelers were still blocking his view. There was still kudzu.

"How much farther?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

John didn't answer.

"It can't be much farther," Rodney reasoned out loud. "Dobbins is, what, the first or second exit on 75 past 285?"

John nodded, his mouth twitching up at the corner. "Yep."

"And that exit is in three miles, right? So that's about six, maybe seven total."

"Mm-hm."

Rodney didn't like the sound of that.

"Mm-hmm what?" he asked suspiciously.

Sheppard's mouth twitched again. "You're asking the wrong question, Dr. McKay. In Atlanta, the question isn't 'how far?,' it's 'how long?' Time, not distance."

Rodney slouched lower in his seat. "So if I asked how long?"

"'Bout an hour."

Rodney's head hit the window. "Oh my god," he said. He thunked his head against the glass again. "Oh my god. People do this every day? No wonder they vote Republican. The commute probably drives them legally insane."

"Hey," John said, sounding chipper. "Want to play prime-not-prime with license plate numbers?"

[someinstant.livejournal.com]

Um, 'brake,' not 'break.'

It's almost four in the morning. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

<sub>And because I'm an utter dork, here (http://www.mapquest.com/directions/main.adp?go=1&do=nw&rmm=1&un=m&cl=EN&ct=NA&rsres=1&1ahXX=&1y=US&1a=&1c=Atlanta&1s=GA&1z=&2ahXX=&2y=US&2a=&2c=Marietta&2s=GA&2z=) is the route John and Rodney are taking. Note that it's technically only twenty miles from Hartsfield International to Dobbins Air Reserve Base. Note that MapQuest is foolishly optimistic and says you can make the drive in under half an hour.

MapQuest is a dirty rotten liar.</sub>

Also, the six-miles-in-one-hour thing is something that has happened to me several times. Oh, how I long for decent public transportation

[http://users.livejournal.com/_inbetween_/]

Yum.
Yumyum.

[jenlev.livejournal.com]

oh. my. god. *all* of these are hysterically funny. and cc, you know that i have to pick a favorite line in order to justify having worken up the entire condo building with my laughter:

""Don't say 'obstruction,'" McKay moaned, closing his eyes."

:::faints laughing::::

[http://users.livejournal.com/_inbetween_/]

*sporfle*

[cimness.livejournal.com]

i wanted somewhere to leave you feedback, but i was too lazy for e-mail. i have been trying to forage for sga fic in various places and saving yours (and some others') up so as not to read all the good stuff at once, but today i gave up and dove in.

"cred" delighted me more than i can say. i'm in love with it. i'm sure it's not perfect or anything, but that doesn't matter even the tiniest bit. it's the story i've been waiting to find in this fandom since i watched the canon and got this firmly fixed idea of how great a story about john's little crush on rodney could be. and now i've found it! yay! so thank you for being talented, productive, deft, witty, etc.

[nestra.livejournal.com]

*dies*

That's priceless.

[axiom_of_stripe]

*dies laughing*

Oh, dear.

[tovalentin.livejournal.com]

"It's my turn at the wheel."

As usual, Rodney ignored him.

"I could just taser you and get this over with."

"If you actually had a taser. And opposable thumbs. And enough of an attention span to remember what to do with either of them."

By the time Rodney finished speaking, John was chewing lettuce thoughtfully. Tayla had Zelko pinned, squeaking pathetically, against a corner of the cage.

Rodney twitched his nose, settling his whiskers into place.

The wheel creaked steadily under his claws and the bright Atlanta sunlight streamed through the open window, warming his fur.

Sometimes Rodney wondered if there was anything on the other side of the window.

Nah.

[hildyj.livejournal.com]

These are all genius! Rodney-level of genius!

Re: Oh, dear.

[zoerayne]

*dies*

[scrollgirl.livejournal.com]

Oh my God, that is brilliant! Hee!! See, this is why all muffins should be chocolate chip muffins ;)

Re: Oh, dear.

[tovalentin.livejournal.com]

:-D

*facepalm* stupid HTML

[wtfbrain.livejournal.com]

Rodney, being Canadian, would probably be talking in minutes/hours instead of miles/kilometres anyway. For some strange reason, I've noticed that Canadians do this... "How far is it from here to Calgary? Oh, about an hour and a half."

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Oh, man. [snorfles]

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

She drives like she's not even from this planet.

Hee!

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Oh, lovely!

For a second there I almost felt cool.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Tetris! He so would!

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

This is perfectly fabulous. I need to put up a link to the full-length version.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Oh, excellent!

"I know you. You were about three seconds away from ripping the vent out of the dashboard and trying to upgrade the A/C with a coathanger and a stick of gum while the engine was still running."

Rodney grunted. "I could have done it."

I love that.

And kudzu!

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Aww! I'm so glad. Thanks.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Wow.

I just ... wow.

That bent my brain.

[dzurlady.livejournal.com]

Hee! I loved these bits:
"Did you even bother to signal, Major?" Rodney bit out, trying to pretend that he was just, you know, stretching his right leg. And not stomping furiously on an imaginary break.
and
Rodney's head hit the window. "Oh my god," he said. He thunked his head against the glass again. "Oh my god. People do this every day? No wonder they vote Republican. The commute probably drives them legally insane."

"Hey," John said, sounding chipper. "Want to play prime-not-prime with license plate numbers?"
Because traffic *is* crazy making. Thank god I've never been in traffic that bad. :)

[deifire]

*dies*

These are all wonderful!

[amoeba-j.livejournal.com]

"You're asking the wrong question, Dr. McKay. In Atlanta, the question isn't 'how far?,' it's 'how long?' Time, not distance."

...out-of-towners have no idea how true this really is until they've tried to cross I-285's top-end at rush hour :p
[and forget about trying to drive from the suburbs to downtown if the Braves are playing!]

People do this every day? No wonder they vote Republican. The commute probably drives them legally insane."
this had me laughing so hard I nearly exploded!

I admit that I found this b/c I've read resonant8's HP fic and decided to check out the LJ, so I have no idea who these characters are here, but it doesn't seem to matter -- the hatefulness of Atlanta traffic transcends fandoms!

Re: Oh, dear.

[joannindiw.livejournal.com]

*falls over laughing* oh, this is amazing!

Re: Oh, dear.

[tovalentin.livejournal.com]

Why, thank you kindly! ::beam::

[agonistes]

I have never seen Stargate.

I read this and went SO TRUE OMG. (I live well north of Dobbins.)

Now I want to see their reactions on seeing the Big Chicken...

[(Anonymous)]

Having lived in Birmingham for a year, I've heard many, many horror stories about Atlanta traffic. I'm pleased to know they're all true.

Other than that... this was great, especially the danger to the A/C. Poor, poor Rodney.

Kara