I’m generally a levelheaded guy, but small, obscure things will drive me up a goddamn wall. The penultimate example of my petty resentment belongs to wrong way signs on entrance ramps. Now this may just be me, but I like to believe that someone out there is boiling with hatred before I even explain myself.
Worry not friend, they may laugh at us now, but I promise that they will notice this at some point after reading this article. Then we will have the last laugh.
OK, so obviously I get the importance of wrong way signs. Someone entering on the exit ramp would spice up my three and a half hour commute home, but maybe the same effect can be had with playing the radio or people who don’t look before merging. But wrong way signs, like my articles or trying to explain to my family why I find people not looking before merging funny, could’ve been handled better.
“So how can you hate something you recognize is so important, you sexifying psychopath?”
Well tell me, if wrong way signs are meant for the exit ramp, why are they always angled at the entrance ramp?! I swear I have a mini-heart attack every time I get on the highway because the wrong way sign is staring me in the face making me question if I’m in the right lane. Of course I know I’m on the entrance ramp, but for that split second the wrong way sign being tilted towards me makes me ask, “Am I though?”
Would it be that hard to angle them just a bit towards the idiots who actually are on the exit ramp? The placement almost feels spiteful. If I wanted that kind of attitude from inanimate objects I would get off my pills.
Next time you’re driving and you see this false flagging phenomenon, whether it be your first time or your thousandth, I want you to ask yourself a question. Why have we, as a society, consented to be bullied by a sheet of metal? Why is aluminum plate patronizing allowed to continue?!
I say we stick it to the wrong way signs! We should drive where we like! If it says we’re driving the wrong way, actually drive the wrong wa- nope. Nope if we do that people will die. OK, something else, uh, maybe we just write a scathing letter? A petition of some sort? Not all revolutions are exciting people. Sometimes you’ve got to play ball.