There are three inevitabilities in our universe: Death, gravity, and getting unexpectedly trapped in summer construction. You can plan for it, fight it, deny its existence; it will find you and delay your road journey by precious minutes.
We shouldn’t complain, but we do anyway. We complain when our roads have more bumps than a bloated toad, then we complain when construction crews try to fix them. If every road was perfectly smooth and polished, we’d probably complain that they make us drive too fast so we can’t appreciate the scenery. We all love to whine.
I’m no different. In Halifax, when I traveled by foot and the occasional bus, summer construction was no sweat of my brow. It was something that happened to other people. But now that I have a car, I can see the clarity of construction crankiness. It hit me like a bullet last Thursday.
As you know, our film selection in Yorkton is usually quite...thin. I was hungry for a non-Mamma Mia 2 movie, so I checked the Regina theatre showtimes. I noticed the Rainbow theatre was playing “Blindspotting,” an apparently critically-acclaimed small drama. Since I had some free time, I decided to make the trek to the Queen City.
The first half of the drive was smooth sailing. Minimal traffic, stronger radio signal, the whole deal. It all screeched to a halt when I descended into Fort Qu’Appelle.
The biggest valley in the province was at a standstill. Cars and trucks were stuck at the foot of the hill. Traffic stretched upwards and over the horizon. I craned my neck out of the window, looking for the accident causing the hold-up. I saw the familiar yellow hard hats and I knew it was no accident.
The summer construction trap had caught me.
I put my car in park and stared ahead. Minutes crawled by. Time slipped away from me. The movie showtime inched closer and closer, and I was nowhere near Regina. “Blindspotting” slipped away from me.
I quietly raged at the sky, cursing my bad luck and timing. I begged the traffic to move to no avail. I cranked the radio dial to a hard rock station to match my frustration.
But as the seconds ticked by, I started to reflect. The construction might’ve annoyed me, but it’s necessary. Road workers are the unsung summer heroes. In fact, we often paint them as villains. But they spend hours in the smothering heat trying to make our highways and sidestreets semi-functional. They repair the tears and potholes we create. Sitting in my car, stuck in construction traffic, I gained perspective. I saw the big picture.
I never saw “Blindspotting.” I made it to Regina 30 minutes late for the showtime. Luckily, I was able to see “Sorry to Bother You,” an ambitious dark comedy about telemarketers, communism, and horse mutants.
Construction can lead you to some weird places.
