my theory on driving in massachusetts
Woo hoo! I'm 21!! I'm considered an adult... "by five-year olds everywhere". Oh dear god, I put the period on the outside of the quotation. I am learning things in English. *cry*
Anyway, my title is prompted by a breakthrough I had driving back to CT this afternoon. Yesterday I drove up to Hanover to visit with Chrisanne and to have my first legal drink :) Like most people born and raised in Connecticut, I started to get chills up my spine as soon as the signs for Sturbridge appeared. I was cruising along at a relatively high speed for I-84, yet when we hit the Massachusetts border, the entire highway proceeded to pass me. It was like "wheeee, we're in massachusetts---let's go 95!" However, I adjusted to this quickly and resigned myself to life in the right lane with my CT license plates warning those natives around me to just pass me and leave me alone in my 73 mph world. The Mass Pike revealed more adventures, like, for instance, the exhilaration of driving in the break-down lane. I think Massachusetts missed the memo about what a break-down lane is for, and it's very disconcerting to feel people whooshing past you on that side of the car. It's also an interesting experiment in peer pressure, because even those of us who are law-abiding Nutmeggers are forced to drive in the breakdown lane if we ever wish to actually exit the turnpike. I was adjusting to the breakdown lane thing (ok, I wasn't, but I figured I was almost to Chrisanne's town, and would be safe soon), when I saw that up ahead the highway dropped a lane just as an entrance ramp merged on. And thanks to this breakdown lane ability, there were three lanes of traffic trying to condense into one. Biting my lip, I bravely moved over so that I wouldn't have to be caught up in this mess. I was parallel to a huge orange EMT ambulance that had been cruising along in front of me for the past 20 minutes. I could have rolled down my window and asked the driver "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" However, apparently my blue Focus is invisible, because about 3 minutes after I saw the oncoming traffic mess, the ambulance did as well and began to pull into my lane on top of me. There was a moment of "No, he's not really going to try to get into this lane. That would just be stupid," followed by a moment of blind panic, brake-slamming and horn-honking when I realized he WAS. It looked like a giant evil Nemo was trying to squish me!
But that's when I became a Masshole in my heart. Because once my heart rate lowered and he pulled ahead and THEN moved over a lane, and we were past the traffic and everyone was just cruising along again I suddenly thought, "that son of a BITCH!!!!!! That ASSHOLE just almost HIT me! How DARE he try to CUT ME OFF?!" If you've ever seen the movie Gone with the Wind, you know what happened next. I raised my fist in the air as the Georgian sun set behind me and swore "With God as my witness, no one will ever cut me off again!" Then I proceeded to drive like a jerk. There were preliminary strikes and no fear. Someone was going to get in front of me and then slam to a stop? Oh no, I don't think so. There would be no more little meek CT driver. The only thing bullies understand is strength. Then I realized why everyone was such a horrible driver. At some point in their lives, everyone in Massachusetts is cut off or almost hit by an idiot, and they all have this rage inside them. It probably dates back to the pilgrims. Some Puritan who couldn't steer a horse to save his life slammed into his neighbor's buggy, and the chain-reaction of anger has resulted in an entire state of bitter drivers.
The funny thing is that once you get used to it, it's actually kind of beautiful. The way the cars instinctively feel where to go (since no one is using any turn signals), and especially where there are no lane lines painted on the ground. It's like watching a ballet with cars. The way they pass each other so fluidly and manage to just fit into a spot as if they've been meant for the lane their entire lives is pretty impressive. I wish I could switch lanes like that.
Just so no one is afraid when we get back to school, my rage had faded by Hartford. Once you get off the Mass Pike, it's not fun to be a jerk anymore. But I'll always remember two weeks ago when I was driving people to Lake Compounce for our day off. Going down I-84 in the middle of construction at a high but still reasonable speed, I saw out of the corner of my eye some idiot entering the highway gunning it so he could beat me in the merge. Under my breath I muttered, "Oh no you don't," and sped up so that he didn't stand a chance. In the glow of victory, I decided that going 80 is fun and safe for some parts of the highway, and proceeded to drive the rest of the way to Bristol without any fear. Later that day when I was complaining about drivers from Massachusetts, Seth, a native of Sturbridge, MA, just smiled and said "You have more Massachusetts in you than you know."
Anyway, my title is prompted by a breakthrough I had driving back to CT this afternoon. Yesterday I drove up to Hanover to visit with Chrisanne and to have my first legal drink :) Like most people born and raised in Connecticut, I started to get chills up my spine as soon as the signs for Sturbridge appeared. I was cruising along at a relatively high speed for I-84, yet when we hit the Massachusetts border, the entire highway proceeded to pass me. It was like "wheeee, we're in massachusetts---let's go 95!" However, I adjusted to this quickly and resigned myself to life in the right lane with my CT license plates warning those natives around me to just pass me and leave me alone in my 73 mph world. The Mass Pike revealed more adventures, like, for instance, the exhilaration of driving in the break-down lane. I think Massachusetts missed the memo about what a break-down lane is for, and it's very disconcerting to feel people whooshing past you on that side of the car. It's also an interesting experiment in peer pressure, because even those of us who are law-abiding Nutmeggers are forced to drive in the breakdown lane if we ever wish to actually exit the turnpike. I was adjusting to the breakdown lane thing (ok, I wasn't, but I figured I was almost to Chrisanne's town, and would be safe soon), when I saw that up ahead the highway dropped a lane just as an entrance ramp merged on. And thanks to this breakdown lane ability, there were three lanes of traffic trying to condense into one. Biting my lip, I bravely moved over so that I wouldn't have to be caught up in this mess. I was parallel to a huge orange EMT ambulance that had been cruising along in front of me for the past 20 minutes. I could have rolled down my window and asked the driver "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" However, apparently my blue Focus is invisible, because about 3 minutes after I saw the oncoming traffic mess, the ambulance did as well and began to pull into my lane on top of me. There was a moment of "No, he's not really going to try to get into this lane. That would just be stupid," followed by a moment of blind panic, brake-slamming and horn-honking when I realized he WAS. It looked like a giant evil Nemo was trying to squish me!
But that's when I became a Masshole in my heart. Because once my heart rate lowered and he pulled ahead and THEN moved over a lane, and we were past the traffic and everyone was just cruising along again I suddenly thought, "that son of a BITCH!!!!!! That ASSHOLE just almost HIT me! How DARE he try to CUT ME OFF?!" If you've ever seen the movie Gone with the Wind, you know what happened next. I raised my fist in the air as the Georgian sun set behind me and swore "With God as my witness, no one will ever cut me off again!" Then I proceeded to drive like a jerk. There were preliminary strikes and no fear. Someone was going to get in front of me and then slam to a stop? Oh no, I don't think so. There would be no more little meek CT driver. The only thing bullies understand is strength. Then I realized why everyone was such a horrible driver. At some point in their lives, everyone in Massachusetts is cut off or almost hit by an idiot, and they all have this rage inside them. It probably dates back to the pilgrims. Some Puritan who couldn't steer a horse to save his life slammed into his neighbor's buggy, and the chain-reaction of anger has resulted in an entire state of bitter drivers.
The funny thing is that once you get used to it, it's actually kind of beautiful. The way the cars instinctively feel where to go (since no one is using any turn signals), and especially where there are no lane lines painted on the ground. It's like watching a ballet with cars. The way they pass each other so fluidly and manage to just fit into a spot as if they've been meant for the lane their entire lives is pretty impressive. I wish I could switch lanes like that.
Just so no one is afraid when we get back to school, my rage had faded by Hartford. Once you get off the Mass Pike, it's not fun to be a jerk anymore. But I'll always remember two weeks ago when I was driving people to Lake Compounce for our day off. Going down I-84 in the middle of construction at a high but still reasonable speed, I saw out of the corner of my eye some idiot entering the highway gunning it so he could beat me in the merge. Under my breath I muttered, "Oh no you don't," and sped up so that he didn't stand a chance. In the glow of victory, I decided that going 80 is fun and safe for some parts of the highway, and proceeded to drive the rest of the way to Bristol without any fear. Later that day when I was complaining about drivers from Massachusetts, Seth, a native of Sturbridge, MA, just smiled and said "You have more Massachusetts in you than you know."