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)