Back in Oneonta. How the hell is that break over already? I've got one more day until I have to deal with the bullshit of advanced composition and public speaking.
The drive took less than four hours, which is good, since it usually takes five, and really good compared to the seven and a half hour torture that was the return trip over Thanksgiving break.
I've noticed that I become some sort of strange creature when driving these long distances. If someone isn't following the unwritten but all too real Rules of Interstate Etiquette, I fly off the handle and become obsessed with reaping vengeance upon them. For example, if I see some asshole constantly changing lanes and weaving in and out of traffic, going too fast and driving like a dick, I try to punish them. If it's a two-lane highway and they are behind me, I will drive side-by-side with the next closest car, cutting off any outlet for this prick to keep on flying down the road. One of the sweetest rewards is when you have some guy driving recklessly in and out of the lanes, you spot him and curse his name, he drives off, and just as you are about to forget about him, you come to some traffic and see Mr. Yuppie Audi or Fake Hoodlum Mazda sitting behind a line of cars, thus rendering his tough guy driving techniques useless.
I also find myself obsessed with trying to spot the warning signs of a slow lane, trying not to commit until the last second as to not get stuck behind some foreign guy who won't go above 40. Sometimes this is hard to do. It might seem like your lane isn't moving, but you always have to remember that the forces of the universe usually balance, and one lane will inevitably be going the same speed as another. But to be sure, pick out a Traffic Buddy, some car that you will keep an eye on in another lane to gauge how fast your lane is moving in relation to yours.
You can usually tell what kind of person is driving the car by what lane they stick to.
The left lane is commonly referred to as the fast lane, and this is generally true. Except if you are in the fast lane, you WILL have an asshole come and ride your bumper within six seconds of entering the lane, because many people think fast lane means "Go faster than everyone else, making me cool" lane. You have two options at your discretion: you can either a) size the driver up, figure they aren't truly an asshole, and switch into the other lane to let them by, or you can b) go intentionally slower to piss them off and show them what riding your bumper will get them, and wait until they either ease off or change lanes and go around you.
The middle lane is the pussy lane, and for people who are too scared to go anything over the speed limit. They believe that since the speed limit is 65, you better make it 60 just to be on the safe side. Do your best not to get stuck behind one of these people, because they go slow and tend to drift in their lane, making it difficult to get near or around them.
The right lane is for skittish grandmas, non-English speaking citizens who haven't a clue as to what is going on, or women (for the most part). Don't even venture into this lane unless you are looking for the exit ramp. Next time you are driving, look over there and see. You will either see an old guy so small it just looks like hands are steering the wheel, or an '89 Honda with 14 Mexicans in it.
Is this just me who sees this stuff going on? Sometimes I feel like I imagine all this, like I am driving in a soap opera where people where be kind and courteous to you, or stab you in the back and be complete cuntburgers. Does anyone else experience this? I hope it isn't just me, because it'll just be another sign of my oncoming schizophrenia.
