Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Real Men of Genius: Here’s to you Mr. Traffic-Jam-Butter-Inner Guy


Excuse me while I vent.

Terrible drive in to the academy today. The Annapolis area is considered outside the outer circle of the official Washington area traffic Inferno, but occasionally, accidents on I 50 will cause backups well into our neighborhood. Today was one of those days, thanks to early morning rains, slick roads and errant tractor-trailer rigs. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to cover all of 8 miles because of these things.
But, such a drive in would not be infuriating if it weren’t for the men and women that deem themselves, and their time as so much more important that they take it upon themselves to ride the lane adjacent to the backup, looking for an opportunity to force their way in. This while studiously avoiding any eye contact. A sort of game of chicken. Bastards. I encountered at least 10 of these fine citizens this morning.
I don’t have the video making skills, but here’s a script for a Bud Lite commercial dedicated to these true tools of the roadways, (song portions in parentheses):

(Real men of Genius)


Today we salute you. Mr. Traffic Jam Butter Inner Guy.

(Mr. Traffic Jam Butter Inner Guy!)

Riding along that free lane in dogged determination, you don’t activate that turn signal until the last possible moment.

(Last Possible Moment!)

Sure the plebian suckers have been waiting in line an hour, but they’ve got to know your time is so much more valuable than theirs, because you drive a “Jag-u-war.”

(I’m so much more important!)

You nudge that front end into the line like Martha Stewart attacks a Brioche. Honk if you want to, driver of that ’78 Chevy Nova.

(Back, Back, that rust-bucket all the way to Hackensack !)

So crack open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. and Ms. Hoi Polloi. 'Cause we all know, when the traffic is clogged, you're going to skip it.

(Mr. Traffic Jam Butter Inner Guy!)