When I watch television I see the commercials (usually for fragrances, medications, and -- only in Muncie -- Meeks Mortuary).
These are set to Herman Hupfeld's "As Time Goes By" and have an unmistakable "typical summer" theme in the sense that they are riddled with happy children flying kites and couples kayaking and half-naked models who are paid an obscene amount of money to make out on hammocks while being videotaped.
I cannot help but display my sincere appreciation for the simple things in life by having a hearty laugh and changing the channel.
Not once in these commercials do we see a "Detour" sign, the color orange or pieces of machinery that insist upon building overpasses in the middle of the highway during waves of traffic.
Construction, construction everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
A few weeks ago I made the scenic voyage to Evansville, Ind., to visit fine human being Craig Ghormley, who had e-mailed me directions the day before. The directions were simple: "Get on East 465 and get off on I-70, then stay on that for an hour."
Craig failed to mention, however, that the crucial portion of 1-70 that actually goes through the middle of Indianapolis did not technically, at that point, exist. So a scenic voyage to Evansville underwent an unexpected plot twist, and our hero found herself trucking along in the general direction of Chicago.
Some would argue that this was a fortunate turn of events, as it is much farther away from Kentucky, but let us keep in mind that one can wear any color one likes in Kentucky and stay alive.
So our hero hastily made her way from I-65 North back to 465, where she proceeded to be stuck in a traffic jam at which point she was so stark raving mad that she called Mr. Ghormley on her cellular phone even though she wrote an 82-page research paper in Journalism 102 on the dangers of driving while having an intense conversation on her cellular phone.
Craig was apologetic and claimed he knew nothing of the project's starting time, and directed me back to the nonrubble regions of I-70. The rest of the trip was relatively construction free, but the trip back involved one lane of traffic and one speed (roughly 45 miles per hour) for 74 miles.
Since we live in an imperfect world, the savvy driver should make the best of even the most frustrating construction situations, and here's how:
1. Do not honk your horn. Everyone is just as peeved as you are, and, should there be anyone from Chicago amid the aggregate, let us just say that it would not matter what color you were wearing.
2. Pay attention to the signs, always have a map handy in case you need to make your own detour to your destination and avoid making split-second decisions. Only you can prevent forest fires and end up somewhere unexpected, such as the morgue.
3. Burn a CD containing "As Time Goes By." Serenity is jazz standard. Observe:
I see traffic cones and flashing lights, and the guy behind me won't turn off his brights.
And I think to myself, "What a wonderful world."
Oooh, yeah.
Write to Aleshia at aahaselden@bsu.edu
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