Blatant On-Ramp Violations

In southern California, almost all the freeway on-ramps are controlled by a series of lights designed to limit the influx of traffic onto the already crowded freeways. As a result of this, the majority of the ramps are rather lengthy and frequently backed up with idiot drivers waiting for the lights to unleash them upon other motorists.

For approximately 20-30 minutes everyday, you'll find me in one of these magic queues, waiting to continue my life. Generally these waits go smoothly, with no rage attacks presenting themselves. It is, after all, a pretty simple process: drive forward to the car in front of you and then brake, repeat this process until you're the front most car, in which case you roast the tires when the light turns green.

Life in the queue is not all happy candy and fluffy titties though. Sadly, there are four common types of on-ramp faggory that rear their ugly heads in almost all the queues. No matter where you are, someone in the queue is invariably committing one of the following four on-ramp queue sins.

Allow me to elaborate upon the numerous public failures taking place above:

Most egregious and confusing by far is the spontaneous reversing fuckwit. Somewhere between entering the ramp with the hopes of going somewhere, and not attaining the instant gratification of actually going somewhere, this dumbass decides it's best to bail the fuck out.

They can be immediately recognized by their sharply out-of-place reverse lights, which are illuminating a whole host of people who are both unable unable to safely move and infuriated by the preceding decision.

"Have to wait ten minutes for something?! My time is too precious! I'll just drive against traffic and find some magic place where traffic has yet to permeate, which will allow me instant freeway access."

Good luck, cock.

The most common on-ramp sin by far is the poor foresight shitdick. This person has at least one passenger with them in the car, and presumably has had for quite a while. Yet, despite their vehicular buddy system and despite the blatantly available HOV lane to the far left, they choose to get in the right-most lane.

While this in and of itself is fine, somewhere between 25%-50% of their way through the queue, their obvious oversight hits them like a ton of birdshit. At this point, you'll recognize the symptoms by the never-ending blinker usage, the complete disregard for other ramp-occupants, the 45 degree angle they'll have formed against the flow of traffic, and the 5-6 car length gap that's resulted from them no longer moving forward like a normal human being.

You see, once their blinker goes on, you may be confused into thinking they're requesting lane change permission. Nay. They're simply informing you of their intentions to move left without regard to the principle that two cars cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

"Sure, forcing my way across the two other lanes will take 10 minutes, whereas staying in this lane would get me AND everyone behind me through the line in the same amount of time, but fuck that. Look out HOV lane! Here I come!"

The all-too-common BFF texting cuntsickle likes to make joyous appearances directly in front of you. Their busy life and rigorous social requirements preclude them from being an active participant in the queue. Instead, you'll quickly locate this person (a woman) by the ever increasing yawning traffic fissure in front of them.

It doesn't matter what  YOU have to do, because letting Jenny know that the cute guy at the deli totally flirted with her, and that she had the turkey club because it has very little fat, which is good because she's going to the beach this weekend with Sarah, who just broke up with her boyfriend and is devastated, but will get over it soon because that guy was a jerk anyways, similar to that guy Chad she dated a few years back that drove that red mustang and *eons pass and everyone is dead*

Coming to a queue near you is Drifty McCumbucket. Too busy listening to the newest marginally talented rap "artist" at full volume, or generally faffing about with something in the car that's NEVER near the driver, Drifty can be spotted mindlessly encroaching into your lane.

Like a zipper tooth and refuses to snap into its proper corresponding receptacle, Drifty causes a breakdown in the entire queue. By taking up twice as much space as is needed, you'll be sure to suffer as a result; but it's OK because at least everyone around Drifty can forcibly listen to their poor taste in music as a consolation gift.

It's fine Drifty, do whatever YOU need to do. That's all that matters to everyone else. You waste of road space and human meat.



Estimated time to get home now: ∞