Why I Love Traffic
As I sat in my car on the way to Belle and Sebastibowl ’06 it came to me. Santa Monica to Hollywood. 12.7 miles. 1.5 hours. 1.5 hours. 12.7 miles. 12.7 miles. 1.5 etc.
I am seriously. Seriously considering going the motorcycle route. Oh yeah. I want to be one of those guys who shares lanes, scares the bejesus out of everybody he passes and arrives windy fresh and on time, every time.
12.7 miles. 1.5 hours. This after even my shiftiest of crosstown maneuvers. Missed most of the Shins set. Didn’t matter. The evening was stellar. Arriving at the bowl was akin to a family reunion: Suddenly I’m surrounded by old coworkers, new acquaintences. New faces I would know well before night’s end. Even Dave Hart was there.
Bitching no longer works, friend. Gone are the days I gripe about it. Does anybody remember Valentine’s Day? I sure as hell do. How long did it take me to get home from work. Four hours? Seven? Eighteen?
Bitching no longer works, friend. I saw a movie last year called What The Bleep Do We Etc. The movie annoyed me, but the premise was spectacular and the premise was this:
If you stare at a petri dish full of water and think angry, dark thoughts, traffic will suck.
If you stare at a petri dish full of water and think positive thoughts, traffic will not suck.
I think the positive. Do this exercise with me. Fill in the blanks in the comment section.
I love traffic because ___________________.
I love being in my car because ___________________.
I’ll start. I love traffic because it gives me time to think. I love being in my car because it forces me to listen to the full album in lieu of cherry-picking the favorites. Oh yeah. Find the deep cuts. The gems I’d forgotten about.
Print your credo four times. Affix to fridge. Dashboard. Bathroom wall. Above your bed. Only together can we affect change.
Winding down after the bowl now. Two fingers of whiskey on ice. Bacharach on vinyl. I look forward to the morning commute.