So I picked up one of my girlfriends, Arlene and we headed off to Cedar Rapids yesterday to take in a movie, something about hangovers and having had lots of experience in the matter, it sounded good. Nowadays ya have to go to Cedar Rapids to see a movie because none of the local towns have a theater anymore on account of cable TV. Damn pain in the wazoo if you want to see a new movie and ya have a cravin for some Milk Duds to boot.
Well we no sooner get out on the two lane highway North of town and I’m tellin Arlene about my exploits as a Guide in Africa, (Lying through my teeth) when the traffic starts to slow down. Sure enough, after about a half mile a crawlin along we see the damn orange cones directing traffic down to one lane. Now the way these nitwits always do these things is they pick out where the traffic merges from the right so’s they can pinch it in from both sides and really make a mess of things. I think they think that’s funny and they have hidden cameras stashed in the traffic cones taking pictures of the expressions on people’s faces. Now if you factor in that half the cars are driven by nincompoops or worse yet, women, you got yourself unadulterated chaos. So there we sat watching people from both sides trying to get into one damn lane.
Well we put putted along at the break neck speed of 2 MPH for the next fifteen minutes realizing that the only hangover we were going to see was the one that sittin on your bum going nowhere produces. Finally after twenty five minutes of creeping along we get up to where you have the usual collaboration of five or six guys watching one guy with a shovel throw asphalt in a pot hole. But what burns ole Merles hind end is there’s this moron standing there with a sign that says “SLOW.” Judas A Priest, where was this genius two miles back when everybody was a slammin on their breaks? I mean, what is this guy, a misplaced table lamp with a sign?
Well, we get up alongside ole Albert Einstein and I rolled down my window and asked him if maybe 2 MPH might be a tad dangerous what with there being kids and women folk in the cars and that maybe his sign should say “Camp Ground” or something like that. I even suggested that maybe he could have a sign advertising where I could get a cold beer or a massage. I then asked the ninny if he could remember the year he finally graduated from the fifth grade.
Turns out I asked him some questions that were a bit intrusive; at least that’s what the Highway Patrolman told me after he pulled me over. I guess Mr. Sign Guy didn’t have a sense of humor concerning such matters. That’s another thing that ticks me off. They need to take the sign guy and the Highway Patrolman and place them both where they belong and this sort of thing wouldn’t happen in the first place. Ya don’t flout common sense in front of a man of my like me, not never. Oh and Arlene just sat there and laughed her ass off thank you very much. Beam me up Scotty.