Monday, March 16, 2015
I probably should not be this amused.
For the last thirty minutes, I have stood, sipping a nice chai latte, watching out the front window of my house, shaking my head. Over and over, the same scene has repeated itself: Car travelling at 45 mph suddenly applies brakes, driver leaning forward in puzzlement or disbelief or anger. Moments later, the car is seen again as it heads back from whence it came.
The road is closed as of yesterday.
There are warning signs. Two of them. Very large, with a combined square foot surface of probably a hundred feet. One is lit. The other partially blocks the lane.
And yet, they come.
What is it about people that makes them ignore such warnings? Do they think it does not apply to them personally? Are they distracted? Do they think they have special permission or super powers or some irrevocable right? Do they want to see how far they can get? I know they cannot see the end from the point where they passed the sign, but do they think it does not exist if they cannot see it?
Really, I should not be amused. I imagine we will be hearing sirens at some point because this is an accident waiting to happen. Dark of night, perhaps? I should be prepared. I should be on the watch. Trim the wicks, as it were.
The story of the ten virgins comes to mind. They are waiting for the bridegroom and they do not know when he will arrive, but they must be prepared. At midnight, the call comes out that he approaches. All rise and trim their wicks, but only half are ready with oil. The ones who were not prepared are shut out of the wedding feast. It is not a happy ending.
Out my window, the road crew moves one of the signs farther into the lane to get the attention of the drivers. ROAD CLOSED. I think my show is over and I turn to put the empty mug in the sink.
And another three cars speed by.