I live in the land of stop lights. According to my odometer in the 4.3 miles between my house and the entrance to the interstate there are 16 stop lights. I do not live in a major city where there is a light on every block. I live on the White Horse Pike in a state where they've never heard of an overpass. Every shitty little dirt road that intersects the Pike gets its own light ON A TIMER. As a result of this timer business I often find myself sitting at red lights for protracted amounts of time at empty intersections. Just me, no one else. I can't even think of a reason for such a thing. Is it to give drivers plenty of time to apply make up and dial cell phones and read the paper? Somebody explain it.
Traffic and the devices we use to control traffic didn't always bother me so. Now that I've moved to New Jersey, it couldn't be more on my mind. I'm obsessed with it, not as much as I'm obsessed with Big Brother or anything, but who are you to judge my obsessions? All the movies I watched as a child promised me flying cars and stuff. Where are they, these flying cars? Where?
Can you imagine how wonderful that would be? Straight lines between destinations. An accident up ahead? Change your altitude. I want my flying Delorian and I want it now and I'm stamping my feet until I get it because I'm a big whiney child.
So this morning was a delight. Of course, to balance the scales I'll probably be struck by lightning at lunch or something. What tragedy do you think will befall me? Sign my guestbook to tell me about it, or send me mail at [email protected]
Posted at 11:19 a.m.
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