So, it's raining buckets here. Literal buckets of rain are falling from the sky. It's like all of the water is just being dumped right on us...by the bucketful.
Do you get that it's raining a lot?
As I leave work tonight at 11:30pm, it starts to pour. My windshield wipers are on high. My hands are glued to the steering wheel in the ten and two positions. I am hunched all up on the dashboard like a little old lady, squinting to see my way onto the interstate.
My lead foot is easing off the pedal just a bit, because holy hell is it raining. The last thing I want is to start hydroplaning. I would have ended up going over the railing, landing in the marsh and having the jaws of life suction my fat ass out of the muck.
Not the way I want to end my weekend.
So, I take it easy and get on the interstate. It's pouring, but I'm doing okay. As long as you drive safely, it's fine.
I notice a couple cars driving with their flashers on, which I'm pretty sure is illegal. I guess they think they are doing a service to their fellow drivers by alerting them to the monsoon conditions.
Really?? It's raining? Well, slap my ass and kiss your cousin, I hadn't even noticed! Thank you, sirs or madams. Thank you for alerting me to the potential danger by illegally utilizing your emergency flashers. That's so helpful and not distracting at all.
Whatever. I move past those jerks and continue on my way home.
As I progress, I notice that they had started a trend. Every car that passed me had it's flashers on. I was facing a sea of blinking assholes! All four lanes...blinking assholes!
What in the hell? Am I on an episode of Twilight Zone? Wait. That's not how that show worked. I'm thinking of that one with the guy who forgot where his car was and then married that lady who does it with ghosts.
I'm pretty sure that show is off the air though. I think he found his car and got tired of wearing sheets around the house to get his wife to respond...sexually.
So, I keep driving. I may have also poofed my hair a little just in case I do end up on some show somewhere. Seriously, these people can't really be doing this of their own free will. It's like a flash mob but without the dancing. Or the fun.
It's like a flash mob organized by hall monitors. Hey, let's all show them how cool safety can be! Traffic safety! Yay!
It's getting a little ridiculous now. Every car that passes me has it's flashers on. Cars are flying by me, weaving through traffic, with their flashers on.
Oh, okay, sirs or madams. I see. It's okay that you're speeding through the monsoon and driving like an asshole, endangering all of us. It's okay because you have your flashers on. You may kill all of us, but at least we were aware of the hazard. Thank you. Thank you for alerting me to my impending demise.
Then, all of a sudden, I see a sea of brake lights among the blinking assholes. Slamming on the brakes in a monsoon? Really? That seems like an excellent idea.
Apparently, if you go flying through the flooding lanes of the interstate during a monsoon, you tend to lose control of your vehicle.
Well, I sure wish someone had been alerting us to the potential hazards of said monsoon by signaling in some fashion. Perhaps with some sort of blinking lights that would indicate that maybe we should go a little slower.
That would've been a very nice thing to do.
Or, maybe we could all just lay off the blinkers and pay a little more attention to the damn road. Save your flash mob fantasies for the food court.