It's a Friday and I'm stuck in traffic. The jam's so massive even six lanes can barely accommodate the flow. A sea of red lights flicker ahead, blinking at the whim of restless motorists' feet. The guy in the car next to me is digging his nose. He catches me staring and casually acts as if he's massaging his temple.
It has been a fun ride so far. I have good company, a cup of coffee, and good music's playing on the radio. We're on home stretch, the last traffic light before we're done with the jam.
"And that's why I think Lovecraft was a fucking racist," says Ann. We have been indulging in geek talk since we got off the highway (which was also backed up mind you), and I was enjoying every moment of it. I haven't engaged in nerd trivia for years now.
"I know right? His work was pretty raci—" before I could complete my sentence, I slam on the brakes, rubber melting against asphalt, to avoid an idiot swerving into my lane without signalling, and he continues across the road in the same manner. I don't sound the horn or flip him the bird like he deserved, and I don't need to, because the other motorists were doing it for me.
"Can you believe this guy?" I say.
"Aww give him a break. Maybe he needs to pee really bad," Ann says.
We go on talking about Michio Kaku, space operas, and how our universe might be a speck of dust in some a giant's closet, and what would happen if that giant one day decided to spring clean. We deduce that time in a universe of that size would pass much slower, so the swipe of the hand might mean a couple of hundred years for us, and that we shouldn't waste our time worrying.
As the light turns green, everyone tries squeezing in for a shot at freedom. Cars are streaming in from all directions, and those who have been lining up are trying their best to prevent queue-cutters an entry. I see a motorist in front unwinding his window and thumping his neighbour's car. It's like the wild west out here.
"Everybody's so worked up," I say. "They should chill, it's the weekend."
"Well who are we to judge? They might have had a shitty day."
"Everyone had a shitty day?"
I look around and chaos reigns in this steel gridlock. Some people are embracing road rage and others look like they could use a vacation. Gold Digger's finger found his way back up his nose.
A car tries to jump the queue, and I let him. For some reason, I don't feel the need to get worked up or 'teach him a lesson'. I was having a great time, and the traffic jam was helping prolong it. I remembered a quote, and it went like this:
The mind in its own place and in itself, can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
I share this with Ann and she laughs.
"I'm loving the jam too," she says.
I remember passing through this road in a similar jam a while back, and if someone tried to cut in, I'd play parallel chicken with them.
"Over my dead body!" I'd scream while I bore through their skull with my eyes.
I'm not necessarily in a bad mood when I do that, I'm just in reacting. People don't like losing out, and when queue-jumpers try to weasel in front of a guy who has been lining up a mile back, egos get bruised and tempers flare.
Assholes will be assholes. Fortunately, you meet more good people than bad, and getting your boxers twisted over the few that you meet just isn't worth it. Would a severed eye or broken nose be better than a broken ego? Unless your well-being is in danger, I don't see the need to pick fights. Well, sometimes.
I take out my notepad and scribble:
Bad situations do not equal bad reactions.
It's a writing idea and a life reminder bunched in one.
Ann sees what I'm doing and bursts out laughing.
"You're such a dork sometimes it's adorable," she says in between breaths.
"Shut up."
"Hey, I got a surprise."
"What is it?"
She reaches in her bag and brings out two cans of beer.
"I'm driving!" I say.
"Well I guess I'll just have to finish them all. I've got two more cans, you know."
I step on the gas and stiff-arm myself into Gold Digger's lane. I shrug at him as I mouth words through the window, hoping he could lip read:
"I need to pee really bad."
We finally make it through the traffic lights and laugh our way out of the most enjoyable traffic jam we've ever had.
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