Thursday, November 19, 2009

A Whistle and a Flashlight. Scary.

I sat in a lot of traffic. Once I finally got off the highway, there was a line of cars backed up due to a nonfunctioning traffic light. Everyone treated it like a 4-way stop. Finally, finally it was my turn to go. And then a traffic officer walked into the middle of the intersection. 

A car across from me tried to make a left hand turn. No cigar. It was stopped by the traffic cop. Despite her title, she was not very good at her job and all 4 directions of traffic sat stopped and staring. 

I was part of three lanes going straight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the car to my right inch forward a couple of feet. The car to my left did the same. And in one grand, choreographed movement we swept through the intersection like synchronized swimmers. 

I passed the enforcer as she blew her shrilling whistle in an effort to make us stop, and as I looked in my rearview mirror I saw her flashlight frantically waving us down. I took it as a parting goodbye. 
So long.