Glowing Frustration

Well, it's fall - the time of year when the leaves turn colors, the air gets cooler, and highway departments work at a frantic pace to finish projects before winter. Because, you know, back when they were planning these projects nobody knew that summer wouldn't last forever.

So with the last minute road projects comes the world's most finicky of traffic controllers: the guys (and gals) with the STOP/SLOW signs on that big pole. You'd think having the power to control the traffic would be kinda cool - but nope, not for these folks. I don't know if it's the loud noise, the hot asphalt or maybe the teasing from the coworkers that get to drive the big trucks, but these are not happy people.

Say you're coming up to one with the STOP sign facing you. You slow down and then creep up just a tad so that you're in place for the eventual right-of-way. INSTANTLY they spring into motion. They're snarling at you, frantically shoving their palms towards the ground like a bankrobber threatening to use an M16. You can stop. You can put your car in park. You can take apart the engine and line the pieces up on the shoulder -- nothing will convince them that you've gotten the meaning of the word STOP.

...and then it happens...

...the sign switches to SLOW.

And by SLOW they mean: heybuddygetyourtwobitpieceofcrapimportthroughherenow!

They immediately are disgusted with anyone going below warp 4. Their free arm waves in a dramatic circle, as if they're trying to create a vacuum to actually help propel your car through the construction zone.

It's obvious that I don't know what speed to go when I come up on these zones, so I kinda wish they'd just let me scoot over and they could drive my car through the zone. They could jolt my car from a dead stop to full throttle and back as they see fit, and I could sit next to them and go "Oooh, that's what you meant by SLOW."

It's be kinda like having a construction zone valet.
After all, they're already wearing the vests...