Party of One

There's something to be said for being stuck in traffic when you're not in any particular rush to be anywhere. It's a kind of helpless ennui, but not altogether unpleasant (unless you really have to pee) and it allows your mind to wander. This happened to me in Boston recently; I was traversing the city during rush hour in a rainstorm and found myself in several standstills. My mind wandered from topic to topic, mostly disregarding the radio - that is, until those timeless words were uttered: "Oh... my... God. Becky, look at her butt."

That phrase brought me right out of the mind-wandering; I turned the volume up and rapped along with Sir Mix-a-lot all the way through. Being stuck in traffic, however, my mind did start to roam again during the song, and I realized a few things: First, there were probably several hundred cars in the traffic jam. Second, being that there are actually very few decent radio stations in Boston, there were bound to be a bunch of people rapping along with me and Mix-a-lot. Therefore, there came a point the other night when, through no particular coincidence or cosmic event, a few dozen people in my immediate vicinity enthusiastically and unbeknownst to each other sang the line "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hon!" That thought (not to mention that we all more than likely did the whipcrack after saying that line) got me laughing. Hard.

...there's really no point to this.