I realize Thanksgiving is a huge travel holiday, but come on. What we encountered last night went beyond a little bit of traffic, it was the crazy, angry, homicidal person convention on Interstate 10.
Seriously. Who gives these people a drivers license?
I totally get the need to make it home quickly. Believe me, no one wanted to be cozy and warm in their own home more than I did. Sitting in the same spot for four hours listening to screaming children amidst the faint aroma of cat urine can really wear on a person. And does everyone have a rendition of Sleigh Ride? I love the all-Christmas-all-the-time radio station but nine different versions in two hours seems a bit excessive. How about a little Frosty the Snowman once in a while? Joy to the World?
But Joy to the World would've been much too ironic for the situation. There was no joy on the highway last night. Lot's of shouting, many middle fingers, but no joy. No. We're on the interstate about seventy miles or so, usually less than an hour, but last night we were there two. Traffic came to a stand still half way to our exit. We thought there may have been an accident, most likely the brand new silver Ford Focus with the high school tassel hanging from the rear view who was apparently on it's way to a huge emergency judging by the way it cut everyone off and rode the center white line for a while. What a shame we thought. So young. So angry. So we turned up the tunes and took bets on who'd sing Sleigh Ride next. Willie Nelson? Miley Cyrus? Nirvana? We putted along at five mph for a while longer. The cars next to us played Chinese fire drill. Why not? We weren't going anywhere. The guy to my right finished off his tall boy in a bag. Because, did you know they sell single alcoholic beverages at the gas stations in Texas? They so do. No, that doesn't interfere with the open container laws at all. People just want to buy one at an exorbitant price because they look all pretty lined up in that cooler of ice, much nicer than a cardboard box. Some people gave up and took the frontage road even though we seasoned interstate drivers knew it would end at the river a few miles up. Suckers.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, stuck in traffic. So the husband wants me to roll down the window and look for the red and blue lights because surely we should be coming upon that mangled Ford Focus. Is it blocking the left lanes or the right lanes? We need that information so we can be prepared and be in the correct lane. I almost killed us all with the exhaust fumes, but there were no lights. No sirens. Just lines and lines or cars. So. Many. Cars. Holy Crap! What the hell was going on?
You want to know what was going on?
The left lane of the road ended. That's what.
The highway went from three lanes to two just as it has since it was constructed, oh, fifty some years ago. I don't know why this surprised some drivers as that sign, you know the one, the one that says LEFT LANE ENDS was posted six times, every half mile for three miles. Some people heeded the warning and got over quickly. Some kept talking on their cells and then realized they needed to get over and would apologetically beg for entrance. The angry, aggressive even-an-expensive-car-can't-make-me-happy people gunned to the front and cut their way in. We sat in traffic while the baby screamed, our bladders filled, and gas fumes were all that was left because a bunch of idiots had to win.
My biggest traffic peeve. Just get over already. Quit being a dumb ass. Please tell me there's a special line at the Pearly Gates for those people.
And if that weren't enough. All those line jumpers who thought they'd found the secret passage were turned around and came crawling back to reenter on the right side. Oh, but excuse us, go right ahead and cut us off. We're just sitting here. Wait! It's another Sleigh Ride. Yeah!
But we made it home. Thank God. I think I saw the dog kiss the ground as he disembarked. The cat was thrilled to have a
Only 25 more days until the Christmas traffic fest! I'll be sure to remember snacks and my own music then.