trendymatt's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Speed kills. Traffic school kills a whole evening. Traffic school was an experience. Picture if you will a room full of people whose only common bond is the fact that they got caught in the act of unleashing various evils upon the state highways. I emphasize the only common bond. It was truly an eclectic group. As the eternal Psych major, I spent most of the time analyzing those around me. It wasn't too difficult. Surprisingly, there is a small but dedicated cadre of folks to whom traffic school is a way of life. They experience traffic school much in the same way that Edward Norton experienced support groups in Fight Club. I sat near four guys (strangely enough, about half of the male population in a room of about fifty - woman drivers, eh?) who were able to recount in detail exactly how many times they have attended and for what offenses. One guy dated back to 1982. That's dedication. That's also very, very scary. I also sat across the room from a guy who was a dead-ringer for Ian Somerhalder. When the material presented by the instructor got boring, I at least had something nice to fix my gaze upon. During our break, about a dozen of us sat outside and had the obligatory "So, what are you in for?" conversation. I felt like I should have been wearing an orange jumpsuit and standing on the shoulder of the Interstate while picking up garbage. Also, I think they should have referred to me as "Snake." It turns out that my 80 miles per hour in a 65 zone was one of the more impressive infractions of the evening. Only two people I talked to had more severe citations, so I at least felt like I had accomplished something. I win. Of course, one of the guys who claimed to have been more bad-ass than me claimed he was caught driving 120 in a 35. But he was mentally unstable. No, really. This guy quickly took the role of Class Pet/Pest. First off, he was about six foot six - both tall and wide - and he sat at the front of the class, directly in front of me. I already didn't like the man. He spent the entire class trying to either make tragically lame wisecracks or asking stupid questions, easily extending our time in class by about ten minutes by the time all was said and done. At the end of class, when we were filling out a basic demographic questionnaire he actually asked when he got to the education question: "Well, see, I got a networking degree at the voc-tech school and I have about a hundred credits at UK and the community college. Should I count that as having a college degree?" This was the point that I said to myself (or thought I said to myself) "Jesus tapdancing Christ," which brought uproarious laughter throughout the room. Including the instructor. One offhanded comment got more of a reaction than any of his tired dumbass quips over the course of four hours combined. Again, I win. The funny thing was, when we were all leaving, he left in a rusty Ford Festiva with two different colored doors. A hundred twenty miles per hour, eh? Maybe if he were driving downhill being pushed by a dragster. One guy did have a story that took the cake, however. While driving here tonight on the way from Lawrenceburg, he got stopped on the Bluegrass for speeding ten over. When he explained to the trooper that he was on his way to traffic school, he was excused. Must keep that in the memory bank... 10:21 pm - 10.06.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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