Failing Passport Control

Failing Passport Control- http://www.cynicalbuzz.com

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No matter how innocent and good I am. No matter how many times I travel outside the country; when I go through customs or a passport control, I feel like I’m a fugitive on the run.

Yes, I have accepted the fact I’m one faux pas or mispronunciation of the word “declaration” away from a border patrol officer sending me to a Turkish prison to star in the squeal..oops-transpose that-I mean sequel to “Midnight Express”.

CUSTOMS: -Business or Pleasure? “Well I did take a photograph of a nude statue, but I don’t plan on selling it…so does where does that get filed and would you like to see it?”

CUSTOMS: -How long have you been in this country? “Um..in hours? Are you kidding me? I think I arrived Thursday, but with the time difference, it could have been Wednesday. Do I get sent somewhere special for being able to tell time?”

CUSTOMS: Son, I DON”T ever JOKE. Do you think I’m smiling under these mirrored sunglasses? “No, But the ’86 TOP GUN crew called, they want them back before sunset.”

I’m sure my impersonation of the southern prison warden in "COOL HAND LUKE", “What we have hear is a failurrrrre to communicate” didn’t help my situation much with his “scent” of humor.

I do freak out over the smallest things. I’m even thinking to myself (What is the penalty for omitting the fact I have two souvenir spoons and refrigerator magnets stuffed in my suitcase). That is how paranoid I am. Thankfully I forgot I had a box of chocolates in my computer bag or I would have been a wreck.

As they stare at my passport, there is a big sign above their heads stating in big letters,

(If you are chosen to be searched,

we will provide both an officer

and witness observer)

OOOOH. LOVELY, I have BOTH a pervert and a voyeur asking me if I’m a packing mule or just happy to see them. I am never leaving home again. MOMMY!!

Honestly. I must not be meant to deal with the law at any level. Last night I was pulled over from a local police officer who asked me if I have been drinking.

“Officer, I have not drank anything other than the 2 liter bottle of Gatorade I had after working out, but I’ve been swerving on the road afraid I’m going to have different kind of accident trying to control my bladder AND simultaneously watch you in my rear view mirror as you TAILGATE my butt for the past 20 minutes JUST waiting for me to swerve.

I wonder how Wyoming is in the summer. I hear the border patrol there takes makes you check your belt buckle to verify your name before letting you mosey along.

Attention Deficit In Order

Attention Deficit In Order

http://www.cynicalbuzz.com

I see you. YES, I see you again. There you are waving emphatically. There is a handmade sign you have flashing in and out of my peripheral vision to where I can't ignore you. You HAVE to have something better to do with your morning than to pop up and down begging for attention as you stand behind the glass studio wall for NBC's TODAY SHOW while I try to finish my breakfast.

I'm so glad you are proud of your Alma Mater and feel a loyalty to make a homemade sign for attention. I'm thrilled that you are celebrating your 50th birthday with your friends on a trip to NYC and happen to stroll by 30 Rock at 7:00 in the morning. But no one else cares other than the four other ladies with you who EVEN Al Roker is trying to avoid.

We truly just want you to move to the next tourist stop on your day trip so we can watch the news, weather, sports and how many more times the police were called into Charlie Sheen's house last week. (THE important, critical news of the day only please)

Standing on someone's shoulders at a rock concert is annoying itself, but DOING it just to be situated above Matt Lauer as he talks about airline security is tacky at best, aggravating at its worse.

Seriously, even if I did KNOW you and you came from my hometown, I would never admit I did. I truly would have even disowned you if you were my Mom holding a sign that said, "Hi Erik, look at me and Aunty Em". When they talk about the 15 minutes of fame for each of us, I truly hope those 15 seconds I'll never get back count towards YOUR ENTIRE TIMELINE of fame for at least MY lifetime.

Perhaps I am envious. Yes, maybe I would love to have Kathy Lee Gifford turn and wink at me. (is that a wink or a astigmatism?) But I would never, ever, clap like a seal in front of 40 million people so I can see myself clap on the TV monitor facing me and OH wait! HEY..wait, that is my college friend standing right there next to Meredith Viera. HI ..HI can you see me?....WOW. How cool is that.. He is so lucky. Wink

DOING TIME WITHOUT THE CRIME

DOING TIME WITHOUT THE CRIME

http://www.cynicalbuzz.com

Yes, my perception is tainted. My travels for work spoil me with lovely hotels in great cities. However, some hotels should not be occupied, but donated to prisons for overcrowding. It's supposed to be a home away from home, not the equivalent of doing 10-15 hours in a state penitentiary.

I should have known better as even my GPS couldn't find this "Four Seasons" of solitary confinement in rural New York state. My loyal gadget of the directionally disabled not only couldn't locate it, it never even heard of the road or worse yet, the crime district it was in.

My GPS only kept telling me, "RECALCULATING...RECALCULATING...GO BACK NOW BEFORE YOU END UP IN HOSTEL IV or SCREAM 6".

Too late. When you walk into a BATES HOTEL room and there are SIGNS all over to help you with the obvious, you know it's going to be a night to remember..or one you try to forget.

There is a direct correlation to the number of "DON'T" signs and the stars in hotel rating system. A four star hotel will have only one sign, "THANK YOU". However, a Minus four-star hotel with security cameras will have 20 signs within a 20 square foot space.

-Don't hang anything here (it's a freakin' sprinkler on the ceiling..what am I going to hang? a Piñata?

-Don't use blow dryer near water (Thanks, but I like saving time to wash and dry hair at same time)

-Don't turn lights on after midnight (Does this mean the toilet is non-working after midnight too?)

-Don't touch A/C. (Why would I? I'm going to be perfectly comfortable all night in "lock down", one small window, with no lights after midnight to read more "Don't do anything" signs.

Alcatraz had more amenities, but it at least had a view of the San Francisco Bay. I'm just staring at a flashing hotel street sign that says. WE HAVE CABLE. ...Cable?..wow...Now all is good in Whoville.

After hours driving, I just want to sleep at night and shower in the morning. No need for breakfast in bed or strawberries at night. I'm easy like that.

But what I can't cope with is only ONE pillow and a quilted sheet/blanket/bed spread combo to sleep with. What is that?...A QUILTANKET? I didn't know if I was suppose to lay under it, in it, over it or put helium in it and escape from this prison yard of discomfort.

If the next morning, the shower would be my saving grace, All would be forgotten. Too bad I would have been cleaner if a prison guard hosed me down in CELL BLOCK TWO before this luxury bathroom suite of cleanliness got the job done.

I'm over 6'3" and the shower head was 3'6" off the floor. It took me over an hour to wash with a soap wafer the size of a CHEEZ-IT. It is sad when you have to negotiate which parts of my body needed the soap more and the rest can wait for tomorrow. Worse yet, it took me 90 minutes to dry off as I reached to grab a towel . No, let me rephrase that. NO towel, just a SHAMWOW to squeegee myself off. YES, I felt like an Olympic diver as I used this 6-inch yellow faux chamois to rid my body of moisture.

I finally checked out, (or depending on how you look at it-released) and the front desk/security asked me how was my stay. I just took a deep breath now that I've been broken and said. "THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?"

I did tell him I truly only wanted to see ONE more sign before I left this hotel/prison combo. He said, "What would that be?" I responded, "You've been Punk'd".

Sadly, it was real and I only felt slighted the lights went out last night right before I finished giving myself a tattoo. Yes, I got to get Inked or I would have no proof of doing my time. Peace out.

Play Crazy 8's Anyone?

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Play Crazy 8's Anyone?

On Acela train to Boston this week. I peered out the window contemplating why an Express Train makes 8 stops and slows down to about 8 mph in so many areas, when I caught eight (8) Department Of Transportation workers studying ONE spot on the road near the tracks.

All eight had a white Ford F-350 truck, white hardhats and matching bright shirts. As I thought maybe I came upon the DOT world headquarters, I realized it was more the redundancy department of redundancy. Eight men with eight coffee mugs staring at the same area of a road equivalent to a size "8" work boot.

If only I could have opened my window and overheard their value and accurate assessment, strategy and implementation of why all eight of them need to be standing around eight inches of erosion somewhere near the Connecticut border, I would have heard:

“Ed, I see the crack.”
“Bob, that is not a crack. That is a crevice, a crack is much smaller.”
“Both of you are wrong, that is a beginning of a pothole which will cause collateral punishment to 18 wheel vehicles within eight months.”
“Speaking of punishment, did anyone see the Patriots game last week?
“OH YES! We had the best tailgating party ever. I realized our company trucks hold more beer than the utility company trucks my brother-in-law usually drives to the game.”
“Is that the brother who always brings a six of beer, but drinks a case?”
“No, that is my sister-in-law on my wife’s side. He is the one who put the hole in my pool table while we were playing 8-ball.”
Speaking of holes, I guess we should all go back to the IHOP and write up a report on this crack.”
“You mean, crevice?”
“POTHOLE”
“I’m hungry now!”
“I said Pothole..not Pot roast”

As my train picked up speed, I left the Ed and the seven dorfs to plan how they are going to fix this formidable fissure of the ages in eight months, with 800 men and $800,000. (includes lunch at IHOP)

Averting Disaster

The merging lane was a disaster ready to implode. The intersection itself was already packed while the space was narrow and obstructed. I just avoided a rear end collision a few moments before as I diverted my eyes to see what was passing me on the side that smelled familiar. I returned my focus to the impossible task at hand and decided I had to either stop completely to avoid adding to the trouble ahead or shoot the gap.

I didn’t hesitate. I accelerated to bypass the slower drivers and the undeciders. I shot through the lane and looked back to see two old ladies, a man with a Bluetooth headset and a family with twins scarcely miss the crash of a lifetime.

But as I moved down to the cereal aisle, I noticed my challenges had just begun and I knew right then, I was going to have to take a quick detour to grab a cold chocolate milk and just endure what was going to be another Sunday crowd at the food store. I relent that some pain is unavoidable as I hear echoing over the lanes, “NUMBER 24, your Deli order is now ready”. --- I need more than chocolate. I’m Number 275.

Driving Me Up A Wall

I had the displeasure to be in the passenger side of a newly licensed 17-year-old driver. To put it in perspective, I could have taken two busses, a horse and a refugee boat from North Korea faster than this kid would get out of the driveway.

Ok, maybe US experienced drivers take this for granted. We get in, we turn car on and we GO. Including the seatbelt, I’m counting maybe five steps before I’m cruizin’ down the boulevard looking for some road rage to make my day.

But this young Mario Andretti apprentice with “especially bought for the occasion new sunglasses” took the Art Carney art of driving and adjusted everything except his attitude. I sat with little control watching his seat move -up.back.down.forward. and back again-.lumbar support stiff-lumbar support normal-lumbar support recessed. The moon roof open…shut..open…shut…halfway open, tilted and then up again for venting.

By the time the car even was started, the battery in the car was drained from finding the right song on the radio station to match his driving experience (think: repetitive and without talent). I truly felt like a dog walker who is watching the canine sniff for hours determining the right spot to relieve himself…as I screamed with controlled determination. “JUST GO!!!!….We are only driving to QUIKCHEK, not preparing for the INDY 500.”

Seriously, does anyone really need to sniff the TREE air freshener before you back up? NO! If it isn’t working, you would know if you got the car moving. I’m not asking for much, I just want to be going faster than A/C that he is now adjusting … for each…and…every…..vent angle … “Dude, it’s AIR, not chocolate or beer coming through those vents…what are we waiting for…the new model to come out?”

I understand the over caution, the newness and the fear of young drivers. I even appreciate the fact they focus their hands on the 10 and the 2, align proper mirror adjustment, etc.. , but I will bet NASA has less check points than this kid and three shuttles were launched and returned to Earth before I ever moved away from the curb.

After cup holders were checked for proper alignment and the trip odometer was set at -0.0000….AGAIN, I lost all patience and decided to do what any adult would do in my situation. I bribed him. “Get me to the store within FIVE minutes and I will pay any speeding ticket, plus buy you a BIG GULP of Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar. However, if you don’t move this ½ ton piece of aluminum and glass in 10 seconds, your next adjustment will be prying your body off the pavement as I will push the one part of this car you haven’t touched yet….. the EJECTOR BUTTON.”

Taking the wrong way on the right-a-way

Love my gadgets. If it's digital or has an LCD screen, I'm thrilled. If it can complicate my life with the promise of cleansing my frustrations, I buy it without remorse. Early adopter? HA. I buy the gadgets before they go on sale and pay 50% more than if I waited 24 hours.

The current GPS (Gentleman's Perception System) in my car has helped me many times navigate through the trials and tribulations of NYC and beyond. I've used it to find restaurants, gas stations and the nearest bookstore.

However, I recently used it to find a office address and ended up going down the wrong way on the one way street.

No, I'm not blind nor am I ambivalent to paying attention to HUGE SIGNS that say WRONG WAY, I just paid a hell of a lot of money for this thing and DARN IT, if it says to turn LEFT with a convincing voice, I'm going to do it without hesitation and get my money's worth.

Sadly, the sign was posted to ensure traffic in a SCHOOL ZONE would be flowing accordingly to the children crossing the busy road during that time of day.

As scores of middle school children watched in dismay that my vehicle was passing them in the opposite direction of the buses, A young adolescent screams out,

"HEY, IT'S A ONE WAY YOU %*$(#*@."

Aww, the intelligence of our youth so aptly expressed in such a succinct way. I continued to pass him (cause my GPS still told me I still have 400 ft to go before turning right on Elm Street) so I responded back in the only way a shameful, embarrassed mature man would respond.

"HEY SMART *$$, I'm only going ONE WAY."

Park for your Car, not your Ego

No. You didn't just do what I think you did. What possessed you to think that your car is "all that". I'm watching you. I shaking my head hoping you just started driving yesterday. Better yet, tell me that a bug crawled up your leg and you avoided crashing by parking and swatting insects simultaneously.

OH, I recognized you now, you are the same guy who takes up a seat and a half on a plane while never removing his elbow from the middle armrest for 4 straight hours.

Yes YOU. I don't ever forget an act of selflessness. It is hard to forget someone when their whole life they have been the ones cutting in front of us in lunch lines at school, in concert lines and I know later in life you will be cutting in front of us for social security checks because the Ultimate Fighting Championship is on Pay Per View in an hour.

But this parking scheme episode where no one will be able to park within 100 ft of you is beyond an acceptable act of etiquette. Please tell me again why you have one suction cup on your windshield for your EACH of your satellite radio, GPS, radar detector, hands-free speaker, and one for your 2003 version of a Palm Pilot.

It epitomizes your life. From now on, the rest of us in your world will try to make your life comfortable in your own pathetic way.

When you sit at a restaurant, we'll give you an extra table for your ego so we don't scratch our lives with yours while we laugh at your V-neck sweater vest that was last worn during a Star Trek Convention.

When you walk in our offices, we'll give you an extra chair just for your stupidity to have a solid base not to overtake its counter of your ignorance and bad taste in cologne. What is the scent you are wearing.... "NIGHT PASTURE"?

When you drive on your road, we'll give you one extra lane to ensure your bad taste in vehicles don't stink up the interstate and our choice of transportation as we check off your air freshener as road kill afterthought.

When you stand in line for the bathroom, we'll give you an extra stall so you can have room to grow....and hope you understand concepts of overcompensating for your shortcomings.

But in the end it will all work out. As when you pass away from your diluted, customized, sugar coated world, we will also provide you an pimped out coffin with an armrest and two burial plots parked diagonal for your eternity filled abyss world of emptiness. Oh wait, that is just your car that was converted instead of recycled into next year landfill.

Colors of the Road

Someone cooler than me in this world needs to step up. I know there are millions of you out there, and explain to us non-bikers, why your helmet, jacket, pants, gloves and boots all have to be color coordinated with your motorcycle. A cobalt blue or hot lime bike is cool as it flies by my four-wheel version of transportation but seeing you pass by with 95% of matching accessories wrapped around your body like a cheerleader on steroids kinda weirds me out.

Last time I checked there wasn't a military bike brigade looking for your muffin top body to join other Honda or Kawasaki motorcycles leading the local parade with community colors and flags of Benetton.

I get the fact you want to perhaps compliment your bike with a personal rendition of identifying with your mode of transport over the rest of the world. But I think matching your fluorescent wheel guards with your underwear sticking out like (Joe the Plumber) goes too far in your support for your brotherhood of bikers.

At least Harley riders seem to know that every bike goes with black leather. These modern stylish dudes and dudettes driving a Ninja 250 with their front V-fork matching their V-neck leather jacket and rear sock adjustable pre-load matching low riding boot cut pants will surely add to the stability of the improved chassis with diamond-type frame to match your own Square diamond-type frame.

As they say, It's a Biker thing and I wouldn't understand.

True, because from my view behind you, that little Ninja might feel like a big bike in its newly engineered 249cc parallel-Twin motor and it might match your powder blue Power Ranger gloves, but you just MIGHT be trying to overcompensate for something that I hope doesn't match anything with a cobalt blue or screaming lime green hue.

Acting the Wrong Way on the Right-A-way

No..Please, it's ok. Take your time. As a human being and licensed driver, I of course will slow down as I see you beginning to cross the street in the middle of rush hour without acknowledging danger or the assumption I DON'T want to hit you.

I mean, You aren't disabled, overweight, old or have an emergency. I get it. You just need to cross the street. I understand WHY...As we ALL need to get to the other side.

But have some sense of urgency for my sake. Act like you see my 1/2 ton piece of steel and leather coming at your self indulgent smirk.

I have no problem giving you the right-a-way even when you don't wait for an intersection. But give a little back, my tortoise with a trench coat friend. Give me a wave of acknowledgement, a tiny shuffle of a step faster, something to show me you actually appreciate the fact that I could have made you a hood ornament before 9am.

I do understand. You are too proud to actually make some valiant effort to hurry yourself for anyone but yourself. You are important and to have anyone this side of your embarrassing family tree see that your effort into getting across one lane equals the 200m time of Gold Medalist Usain Bolt is unacceptable.

I'll just stop my life and watch you casually pace yourself and imagine that the next time I see your Flasher Wannabe outfit on a street, I'm going to still let you pass but perhaps skim that puddle next to you testing your waterproofed deep double stitched, buckled J. Peterman Knock off.

(Yes. Referencing Seinfeld episodes just makes me less cynical)

Roughing it on Broadway

I'm confused. I mean more than usual. I'm trying to pass your SUV on steroids and see it has more accessories than an Imelda Marcos walk in closet. It’s a vehicle, not testing facility for the Discovery Channel.

Tell me, are you going camping or did you just get done looting the Sports Authority?

From bikes to kayaks to tents and duffel bags. From GPS and iPods to Bluetooth headsets to Satellite radios. What ever happened to roughing it without a Four Seasons Hotel room key?

What does SUV mean to you? Stuff Until Vomit.

The irony is I guarantee you aren’t traveling farther than to the first road that doesn’t have a traffic light. I can see you unpacking in front of a Rain Forest Café because you saw a tree that didn’t have a bike rack near it.

Dude, save the thousands of dollars you spent buying items that said “titanium”, “halogen lit” or “aerodynamically infused technology” and buy a plane ticket to Wyoming where no matter what town you land in, you will already be roughing it 10x more than what I see you stuffed into your Swiss Army Knife with wheels.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better just to buy an Xbox360 with a First Person survival game. I’m sure your muscles would appreciate the fact that you aren’t trying to prove to the world that you and survivalist Lance Armstrong only have ONE thing in common-YOUR yellow wristbands.

Indecent Exposure to an Impatient Flasher

Stop & Go traffic, early morning and nobody is more anxious to get to work than I. Trying to keep a safe distance from the car in front you is difficult at times especially if you follow the law of 1 car length for every 10 mph of speed like I do (wink). But, when you are going 3 miles an hour with your foot on the break 90% of the time and some impatient driver is flashing his new halogen blue lights at you, where does he think you are going to go if you actually could move?

Does he think he's Bruce Almighty and can part the traffic sea of frustration at a whim or a flash of brights? Dude!! Even if I could move to another lane, why would I give you the satisfaction of allowing you get to your work 5 seconds before me? Worse yet, is the fact that someone behind me actually moved to the emergency lane to let him pass. OMG, he's driving a Camaro, not an emergency vehicle. The only thing he is in hurry for is to get to McDonald's before their Breakfast sandwiches are replaced by Big Macs at 10:30. (scary that I know the time of menu change at a fast food restaurant)

I appreciate courtesy drivers and polite commuters that let you merge without pretending to ignore your need to join their mangled group of lane marauders. But there is more of a chance that gas will be under $3.00 a gallon again than I would oblige to move over for this guy when the rest of the state has to endure the mighty transportation infrastructure quandary. If you hope for me to move, remove your fuzzy dice from your mirror, roll a seven and kiss your spinning wheels for luck and perhaps the dump truck next to you won't drop a load on your cheap Maaco paint job before the next exit.

Parking Wise, Time Foolish

Sure I'll wait. Don't hurry on my account. I only need to get to work before 2011. It's OK, I understand why you wouldn't want to just pull into a parking space, but rather stop all modern day traffic and back into it so you can make a clean getaway at the end of the day.

Forget the fact that it had to be the worse T-turn, reverse, slowly inch-by-inch back into a space made for compact, parking spot maneuver I have ever seen, there must be some method to your rear facing madness. Right now, I am clocking you at a a minute-thirty to pull in that 1995 gem of a car you have decided needs to face out towards the world instead of in like the other 1000 cars. I am not a conformist either, but explain the fact you spent 3x more time manipulating your car around than you are ever going to save to Exit later today.

Unless you just robbed a bank, have tickets to the Jonas Brothers concert or are late for a blood transfusion, I think it is more than adequate to just park that 4-cylinder generic version of a Taurus headfirst into the spot and let the rest of us do what we do best, pass you on the way to a better spot near the entrance. On my way in, I'll put a bumper sticker on your front bumper that reads, "Honk, if you see me wasting your day."

Guess Who's Driving

Countless cars, makes and models fly by us everyday to work, but remember each car can tell us who their driver is without us actually having an accident to actually meet them.

There is an 85% chance that the Corvette that just passed you has a driver with a mustache, a gold watch and a Member's Only jacket. Those small faux metallic painted sport cars (Mitsubishi Eclipses, Mazda 3s, Nissan Sentras) that just can't stay in the same lane for more than 1.4 seconds even when the traffic is stopped has a driver who spent more money on the speakers, spoilers and rims than the car itself. As the Fast & the Furious MiniMe cuts you off, your perception is confirmed in a cartoon flash. The driver is a man (I use that term loosely) who is about 5' 3 inches, wears more jewelry than Joan Rivers and has the cell phone on the outside ear to show you he can multi-task. Maybe he should borrow a phone book to see over the dashboard before he winks at himself in the mirror going 85. Perhaps the favorite of the drive by shootings of stereotypical steering wheel inhabitors is the Extra Double Dual Cab Pick-up Truck driver who hasn't realized the Civil War was over 120 years ago but still wants us all to know he drives a Chevy, not a Chevrolet, loves guns and anything that looks like bull testicles which can hang from his mirror. He wants us to know that Cowboys do it on horses-which is not what he think it means but its too late to explain it to him as I don't have 120 years to teach him about semantics.

Red Light Green Light

Yes, I am impatient when I need to get somewhere. Yes, I am anxious to get to the next....um...Red light. There has to be a way to make going from point to point more gratifying and less grinding. Two ideas, Not one will make me a penny. Let's change the paradigm of what we expect at a light. Keep the Green to Yellow to Red system to avoid causing havoc on the roads. I said I'm frustrated, not crazy and ignorant. But let's change up the 85 year old standards of our colored intersection exchange. As you wait at the Red light, have the middle light change to Blue to let you know its about to turn Green and you can leave. Seriously, If you have the right to warn me to slow down, you might as well tempt me to rev up. No? Not interesting enough for you? OK, one more try to get into the DOT Highway Hall of Fame. Add lighting schematics to your GPS systems. As you drive through a city, It shows you the traffic lights in real time and where and when they are turning red with the number of cars waiting to go nowhere. Now you can decide to take the longer way with less lights and less stopping. You can choose to stay in line with the rest of us mobile sheep and wait for the new Blue Light to alert you to get ready to go, stop changing the music or avoid staring at the other drivers to see why they would hang a pair of dice from the mirror, choose those sunglasses or think we care to hear AC/DC before 7am from a car that would make the guys at "Pimp My Ride" concede that there is nothing they could do to make that car appealing. Maybe not, but I do hear his engine revving up as the Blue light comes on.

Commuter Voyeurism

There it is. I can see you and it's fine. Don't stop now. We aren't moving and I promise no one is watching........watching THE ROAD.

Love the fact you have no qualms about practicing karaoke in your Honda. Nothing is more entertaining then as thousands of us idle with fumes, we can watch you enjoy a guilty pleasure of a song most of us would NEVER admit to even knowing the words.

Playing it loud in your car; cruising. Just you, your morning coffee and your tunes to get you through the commute.

Don't worry, this is your private time, no phone, blackberry or Todo list. What could make this morning commute go any better?

I don't know, perhaps the fact that you don't realize 100 cars are watching and you look like you are trying out for High School Musical 4 without the benefit of watching try to ACT as well.

Yes I'm voyeur (WELL, let me clarify. I'm a commuter voyeur and proud of it. I love the fact you have no shame screaming an "80's Ballad" with a high pitch of a Hairband that could forever ruin THEIR chance for a reunion concert.

I'm trying hard to keep within four car lengths of your hybrid to not lose sight or sound of this garage band on wheels and because throughout the commute, I know I can name that tune in two mileage markers, maybe one. Don't stop singing now that you know everyone is watching you in your mobile shower of rhythm. We just started playing Trivial Pursuit musical addition and you are the sappy host.

Finish strong please. Hit the crescendo, pretend your cell phone is a mic and Simon, Paula and Randy are actually impressed and you get to move on to the next week's freeway of sound. I haven't had this much fun in my own car since drive ins were still in existence..(author's note: yeah, I was probably alone then too)

Encore. Hurry..Find another station, another song. One more please as I want to see how you emulate Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks as a duet before I hit MY exit.

A Bumper Crop of Free Speech

Wait, I need to get closer. Wait.... Wait... almost there.. Accelerate a little more. ahh, much better. Now that I'm right on your ASStounding impressive vehicle, I feel privileged that I was able to witness your life changing philosophies of the world. I now can read and understand you are the "proud mother against drunk parents of a honor student who gets bullied while playing football and is a cheerleader conservative with liberal views who wants world peace but supports the military and is Pro choice of all life while expressing your religious beliefs of beauty, environmental deer hunters and the pursuit of knowing Off-Roaders do it in the dirt"

Now that I bumped into you going 75 mph to get the drift of your inspirational outbreak of adhesive. I have one more sticker for you to slap on those 6 bare inches on your truck.

"Drivers without graffiti are becoming endangered. Save the ink!!!"

What? No room on your mobile billboard? Try your trailer.

Doncha wish your car could be more like mine, Doncha?

Hellooo DMV... Heavy traffic moving fast. The law states you should stay back one vehicle length for every 10 mph's of speed. Why does anyone think they are going to get to where they are going faster if they cut in front of me with no space for safety when I'm just trying not to hit the vehicle in front of me?

We all should have one time a day where we can not only report a driver who thinks of only their journey and not others' demise, but where we can push a button on our OnStar, XM, GPS, radar detector or cell phone and they receive the Scarlet badge of bad driving. If they receive more than 10 a week, they have to ride a bike for a month or stand on the median wearing a sign that says.."Honk if you think I'm an Ass".

I can hear the echoing of horns worldwide...ahhhhh

Merging Traffic

Why do drivers who have two or more lanes to drive on, choose the one you need to merge onto? Why do they refuse to move over without stifling their progress to allow you to join the traffic sooner than later?

Easy answer. They are racing anyone and everyone to work, to home again, to the store or the next place of destination...even though no one else is going to their destination except themselves.