Construction

Dear Construction,

I like roads. I use them everyday. I can’t imagine having to plow my own path from Detroit to Lansing or even from my apartment down the street to the liquor store. I detest dirt roads because they fling bullet like rocks up in all directions. I don’t appreciate having my journey down a road look like something out of Starwars, dodging space debris and alien war ships.

I don’t enjoy off-roading mostly because my car is a few steps above a smart car. I don’t like bumpy or poorly paved roads. I have no enthusiasm for feeling like I am on a roller-coaster on my commute to work and I don’t get a thrill out of going in and out of large trenches. I don’t think my trek to work should resemble a trip to Universal Studies. In fact, I actually have a mild heart attack on the occasions I inadvertently stumble over pot holes in fear that my Jetta will plumet into the dark abyss of said hole and never return.

With that being said, dearest construction workers, I thoroughly applaud your efforts to construct roads for me that are crater free. I wish, however, that you could do this in a more efficient manner. One too many times do I find myself on a road filled with large orange construction cones of doom without the slightest appearance that anyone has made the attempt to construct anything. Not only do I resent you for putting these cones in my way, but I resent you because you are giving me false hope that I will soon have a beautiful, smooth road in which to take long sunday drives down free of pits and ditches.

Instead of a fresh new pavement, I am greeted by queues of cars who appear as though they’re camping out for the next Twilight flick. There’s something about cones that sends people off the deep end.

“WHAT ARE THESE? DEVIL CONES?” They wonder now in a frenzy of fear.

Watching people deal with construction can either be wildly amusing or just downright obnoxious depending on your state of mind. People either cautiously maneuver around them like they’re tip toeing through a minefield or they race through them like they’re doding meteorites. I often feel like I’m being screwed over by Warrio and his godamned bombs or Princess peach and her hoards of Bananas as I try to react to the people trotting along like turtles or whizzing in and out of the cones like professional nascar drivers. I’m not suggesting I have a better way to approach construction cones. Damned if I know what the proper way to deal with construction is, but I’m pretty sure if should not be a matter of natural security.

All I am asking, Construction folk, is that if you are going to put up cones to hinder my ability to make it home within a reasonable period of time and send everyone into a state of hysteria, I politely request that you are actually constructing something. A road would be ideal, but I’d take a curb or a nice plot of grass.

Please & Thanks,

M.

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