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"On the road again, I could wait to
get on the road again. Playing my music loud, ignoring all my fiends,
I could wait to get on the road again." - With apologies to
Willie Nelson.
Sitting in bumper to bumper
traffic is depressing enough, I didn’t need the punk in his
high-school-graduation-gift-sports-car to drive past me at
70 miles an hour to make my day complete.I took solace in the fact
that I had to be in the far right lane so I could exit 64 West and
take 264 East, and waiting here in morning rush hour traffic was
the price that had to be paid.
The sports dude hadn’t read that rule (I’m
sure the rule is tucked into the driver’s ed class, that he
had just failed, somewhere), or maybe he just didn’t want to
pay the fee, which is why his car went from 70 to 20 and then switched
lanes ten cars ahead of me and just made the 264 exit.
As I fumed and swore softly, I loosened my grip
off the steering wheel and took my other hand from off of the horn.
The poor lady in front of me looked perplexed, thinking maybe that
I disagreed with her bumper sticker or something. I didn’t,
I thought it was fine that her child was an honor student.
My time in purgatory ... I mean the merge lane,
had begun innocently enough. I knew that there was only one merge
lane and that while I was in hurry I knew that most of the others
were as well, so I took my cue and got in line. I let a driver in
front of me, I figured he had just forgotten that he had to get
in this lane. "No problem, all is forgiven." A few other
drivers made the same mistake and were greeted with gestures of
"I forgive you, go ahead and merge" from drivers in front
of me. Or at least that is what I assume the gestures meant.
Playing leap frog with a wounded three legged
turtle on the side of the road helped to pass the time. We were
getting closer to the exit ramp. I could tell by the increased pulse
and agitation of the other drivers; I was, of course, as cool as
boiled ice.
An out-of-towner, wanting to go to the beach,
had a flash of inspiration and read a road sign. This is when he
decided to join the line of traffic and sought a place to merge
in. Being the good Samaritan that I am, I allowed the tourist to
merge in front of the car in front of me. "I forgive you, next
time buy a map." Again, I may not be interpreting the hand
signals exactly right, but that was the gist.
The closer we got to the exit the more tourists
showed up. A dozen cars driven by tourist, who ironically were from
other areas of Virginia - hence their plates, must have merged right
in the last 100 yards. Well, I thought stoically, the tourist trade
is good for the area, so I only tooted my horn, instead of the full
fledged honk.
It was the sports car zooming by that woke me
from my naiveté. Wait a minute! I said to myself, and the
turtle who was eating his lunch. Beyond the logic that must be ruling
all of our lives, maybe these drivers know what they are supposed
to do, but feel that they are better than the rest of us, and should
get bumped to the front of the line. Or that their being late, or
in a hurry, trumps everyone else. Maybe they have a card that allows
them to avoid the sort of rules that the rest of us saps are subject
to. Don’t they know that the merge line wouldn’t be so
long if everyone obeyed the rules, and that the line becomes long
because of the constant "exceptions" that arrive at the
turn off point.
Okay, my thought process wasn’t that complex.
"They’re cheating," is the only cohesive thought
I could muster.After exhausting research and sitting at merge lanes
across the Hampton Roads area, I have picked up on a trend. There
are a lot of cheaters out there.
With this scientific data in hand, the question
begs to be asked. What should our reaction be to such cheats? This
is an open book test, take it to work with you and see how you score.
A.) Cheat right along with them.
B.) Go by the rules and curse, resent and become
embittered at all those who don’t.
C.) Find another route, hoping to avoid any problems.
D.) Repeat a mantra and ignore the injustice.
E.) Write a sarcastic article in an attempt to
vent.
F.) Become a police officer, and send cheats
to detention (hint, hint).
G.) Move to Montana.
I guess the answer is not as simple as it seems.
In a way it is indicative of all of our lives and how we deal, avoid,
overcome, or become a part of life’s injustice. In life we
all must merge right (or left - this is not a politicized article)
and enjoy the wait, even if others miss out on the making of a new
friend.By the way, I named him Herbert.
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