The scientists out there say it isn't possible to stop time. They say that
time is an endless river, flowing mercilessly at its own deliberate pace. I
may not be the most learned man in the world, but I am inclined to agree
with them. Time cannot be stopped completely, but it can be slowed to a
crawl at the most inconvenient moments. Such as those occasions when
attention is suddenly drawn towards your person at the most inopportune
instant. For example: Imagine yourself winning an Academy Award. Picture
the adulation of your peers, the excitement of being immortalized in the
acting community. Now imagine that at the very instant the spotlight shines
down on you, you happen to have a finger squarely up your nose in a most
despicable fashion. It is at this moment that time slows down, forcing the
moment of humiliation to last an eternity. Time is a very fickle mistress,
who takes pleasure in speeding up and slowing down at our inconvenience.
Which is one of the reasons that traffic jams are the closest thing to hell
on earth.
There are very few things I would rather be doing on a beautiful summer
day than sitting in an insulated sweat box while creeping down the
interstate at 10 miles per hour. I wake up every day praying that I will
get stuck in an endless line of cars, moving gradually slower, towards a
destination that I don't really want to go. Is there anything better than
that? The only thing that comes close would be a shot in the head from a
.44 Magnum, but even then it's a judgment call. I guess it's just fortunate
for me that every single traffic artery in this town is currently under
construction. Now I get to experience the rapture of traffic jams every
single day of the week for the rest of my life. I think I'll get my gun
now.
Once again, our good friends at the Tennessee Department of Transportation
have decided to wage war on the motorists of our fair city. They have
strategically targeted key thoroughfares throughout the city to insure that
no matter where you want to go you will get there late. Take any interstate
in any direction and you will be stopped at least once. The rest of the
time you will be moving very slowly and cursing very loudly. You will be
forced to go especially slow through the construction zones. For those of
you who don't know, those are the areas with all the orange barrels and
people standing around doing nothing. And as an added bonus, those rare
patches of open road where traffic is free to move at a faster rate are
constantly ripe with speed traps. Makes you just want to run out to your
car and take a spin, doesn't it?
They say progress is very slow, and they aren't kidding. All of this road
construction in Knox County is expected to last another 18 months. In real
time this means we ought to see the end just before the next Ice Age. And
let's hope so because I'd hate to see the delays that would cause. With any
luck the construction will be done before my grandchildren get their
licenses, but I'm not holding my breath. There are, after all, many
variables to consider when attempting to determine the exact duration of
any major highway construction. Variables such as weather, traffic volume,
laziness of workers and ineptitude of city planners. All of these compose a
complex formula which results in an amount of time which will probably be
off by two or three years. In other words, not even God knows when the
construction will end. Lucky for him he doesn't have to commute.
Rather than facing the time warp of rush hour traffic I have attempted
numerous alternatives. I explored the prospect of commuting up the mighty
Tennessee River, but alas neither I nor any of my friends have a boat,
which I am told is essential for water travel. I thought for a moment about
those ultralight planes, but I hate flying. In a desperate attempt I
coordinated a system involving a very large cannon and a parachute but for
reasons too numerous to count I abandoned the idea. So it appears that I,
too, am to suffer the urban nightmare of traffic jams for all time. Unless
they perfect teleporters, but I hear the lines would be insane.
Opinion: Time stops for nothing (except traffic jams)
From the series UNTITLED COLUMN by Eldridge Doubleday
Tue Jul 13, 1999
| Modified: Sat Aug 06, 2005 01:52 p.m.