The Traffic
Traffic is like stress. You will get it every day, slightly lower on the weekends. Nobody asks for it, but there is no escaping it either. Traffic is one of the most annoying by-products of development, along with materialism and pollution. It’s a known fact that Fred Flinstone never got stuck in a jam and was never late for his bowling game.
You can be as desperate as you like, but the traffic doesn’t care(Just like my recent crush). You may constantly change lanes, but your one will always be in the slowest (it’s the law of driving), and you can do nothing about it. It shows how little control we have in our lives; we are just a piece in the puzzle, not the puzzle itself, and sometimes you must let it go.
Traffic comes with its mysteries; why some people honk despite the red light is a mystery to me. Maybe they are color blind, or perhaps they think I have stopped to appreciate and admire the view of multitudes of cars mixing carbon monoxide and toxic gases in the air; it may also be possible that they like the sound of their horm like a kid likes his squeaking toy and just like the kids, they will squeak it every chance they get at it.
But the traffic is also a great leveler; the rich and the poor, the big and small, it makes everyone stop. It doesn’t matter which race you belong to, your language, or how much you earn; it will trash everyone’s time.
If someone comes from the wrong side of the road, everyone cracks open his window to shout pleasantries at that guy. It shows sometimes it’s okay to be slow-moving and even stuck, but you will overcome it with patience and constant effort or just by moving to the countryside.
During the Cornona lockdown, when I was volunteering at the local food center, the roads were empty. It was mostly ambulances with their sirens going off. It was scary; I missed stopping at the Red light with all those unknown people waiting with me.
Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe everything in this world has a role to play. Perhaps we should stop trying to control the things beyond our control. (Just like that one last round of drinks).
