Traffic Control in the United States; or, Why Flagging is Like Being a Cabdriver in New York
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
<ghost>Deep in the Southern heartland of the unquestionably glorious state of Colorado in the country of Universal Stupidity Anonymous (meditate on it for a moment, you'll get it <zen>), there is a very small town that goes by the humble name of Bayfield.
Approximately 1 mile west of this small town is another, even smaller town, called Gem Village. There are no gems to be found in Gem Village, but there is one car dealership, one rather tasteless bar, a country feed store, an auto mechanic, and one suspiciously oversized building that has been observed to have an alarming tendency to lurk.
Whether in the deepest of shadows or the brightest of days, this building lurks forebodingly, bringing to mind such desolate images as the great Building of the Warpoodle on Sandovarious III, or, really, any bar you could think of in the lower east side of Manhattan.
Only one sign exists on this lurking building, and it seems somehow appropriate: ALERT.
Yes, yes... indeed you must be alert when entering this building, for you will have just entered my place of work, and you should be prepared for the likelihood that I will pounce upon your back and sink my long teeth into your neck...<vampire>... MWA AA AAA AAA AAHHHH!!!!!
Well, okay, that probably won't happen, but you never know. You'll have to forgive me -- I am rather into the whole Halloween spirit right about now.
In truth, you will have entered the headquarters of the third - largest traffic control company in the state of Colorado, and while you will indeed find me sitting behind my desk glowering at you, I'm not all that likely to chomp into you.
So what is traffic control, and why the hell am I writing about it here?
Well, you see, traffic control is a vital part of any road construction project in the universe, because it is always necessary to channel traffic around such potential hazards as massive, gaping holes in the road, machinery that would just as soon crush and shred your vehicle into little itty bitty bits as do anything else, and, of course, the occasional woefully flolloping mattress from Squornshellous Beta.
Whether you happen to be driving a Jag, a VW, a donkey, or one of those new SleekumShredders from Aggraggagg, you will most likely encounter a being wearing an orange hard hat, orange vest with retroreflective stripes, and carrying a STOP / SLOW sign (called a 'paddle') at some point in your travels, and, should you encounter this being anywhere in the stretches of Colorado, this being will most likely be one of my company's employees, so please don't run over it, allow your Shredder to eat it, or otherwise cause any physical harm to it. My company and I thank you for your consideration.
Mental harm, on the other hand, is fine, because most of the people who work as flaggers (the things in the orange stuff) are already somewhat mentally charred. It could be reasoned that you would have to be, to be able to tolerate standing in one spot for 14 hours at a time, staring dully at oncoming traffic while the blazing hot sun beats down on your crispy, peeling skin. If one were reasoning thus, one would be correct. 95% of all the people who work for us are either schizophrenic, chronic speed freaks, alcoholic, criminally insane, criminally stupid, or any combination of the above. The other five percent are usually actually damn good people, who are just there because you can make excellent money in the traffic control industry (this year's Federal wages are $14.53 per hour! Hell Yeeeahhhh!<flyhi>)(Of course, I don't make that much, because I work in the office, but what the hell).
Other than the money and the fact that you get to be outside all the time, there's really no upside to being a flagger, but we never tell people that, because we need people to maintain the safety of the roadways and keep the American Way rolling strong and all that sort of patriotic horkus.
The best way to deal with the mental pudding that develops as you stand out in the sun with hundreds of freaks trying to kill you every hour is to be a Buddhist Monk. Or, you could try being a monkey, I suppose that might help. Or you could just be very fond of a few substances that are only legal in Amsterdam, isolated spots in America, and Canada. Either way, you should always go prepared for the worst that could possibly happen -- In fact, the best approach is usually to imagine the worst thing that could possibly in a million years happen... Then go prepared for something just slightly worse than that.
Preparing for a day of flagging is somewhat akin to preparing for a major world catastrophe in which you may have to run off to the woods and survive on grubs and tree bark for an indetermined period of time.
You should always have water, food, sunscreen, rain gear, snow gear, sunglasses, earmuffs, gloves, an extra change of clothes, toilet paper, Aspirin, allergy medicine, and, of course, it never hurts to have a few diapers (just in case, you know).
It isn't a cake job, as most people think when they drive past these silly - looking fools in orange gear, but that's why the wages are good and the employees are insane<cdouble>.
<online2long>
I hope that any creatures of the Universe out there will consider all of the above if any of you are thinking about becoming flaggers. You'll have long, hot, deathly boring days ahead of you, and your brain will turn into vanilla pudding, but in the end, you'll probably have a nice PHAT paycheck coming to you. If money is worth destroying your mind from sheer boredom and frequently dealing with loony gibbering suicidal fools, then flagging is the profession for you.
And, yes, my company is an Equal Opportunity Employer, so if you're ever in Gem Village, Colorado, stop by and fill out an application. It's okay if you have antennae, bulging eyes, and green skin; hell, it'll probably be an improvement <martiansmile> (which, for those who may have missed it, is how flagging is akin to being a cabdriver in New York).
Come to us.... Coooome to the building that lurksssss.... Bwa ha ha ha haaaa!!!<bat>
In the meantime, I need some cheesecake and chocolate milk REALLY BAD, so see ya later.<run><run><run>
Approximately 1 mile west of this small town is another, even smaller town, called Gem Village. There are no gems to be found in Gem Village, but there is one car dealership, one rather tasteless bar, a country feed store, an auto mechanic, and one suspiciously oversized building that has been observed to have an alarming tendency to lurk.
Whether in the deepest of shadows or the brightest of days, this building lurks forebodingly, bringing to mind such desolate images as the great Building of the Warpoodle on Sandovarious III, or, really, any bar you could think of in the lower east side of Manhattan.
Only one sign exists on this lurking building, and it seems somehow appropriate: ALERT.
Yes, yes... indeed you must be alert when entering this building, for you will have just entered my place of work, and you should be prepared for the likelihood that I will pounce upon your back and sink my long teeth into your neck...<vampire>... MWA AA AAA AAA AAHHHH!!!!!
Well, okay, that probably won't happen, but you never know. You'll have to forgive me -- I am rather into the whole Halloween spirit right about now.
In truth, you will have entered the headquarters of the third - largest traffic control company in the state of Colorado, and while you will indeed find me sitting behind my desk glowering at you, I'm not all that likely to chomp into you.
So what is traffic control, and why the hell am I writing about it here?
Well, you see, traffic control is a vital part of any road construction project in the universe, because it is always necessary to channel traffic around such potential hazards as massive, gaping holes in the road, machinery that would just as soon crush and shred your vehicle into little itty bitty bits as do anything else, and, of course, the occasional woefully flolloping mattress from Squornshellous Beta.
Whether you happen to be driving a Jag, a VW, a donkey, or one of those new SleekumShredders from Aggraggagg, you will most likely encounter a being wearing an orange hard hat, orange vest with retroreflective stripes, and carrying a STOP / SLOW sign (called a 'paddle') at some point in your travels, and, should you encounter this being anywhere in the stretches of Colorado, this being will most likely be one of my company's employees, so please don't run over it, allow your Shredder to eat it, or otherwise cause any physical harm to it. My company and I thank you for your consideration.
Mental harm, on the other hand, is fine, because most of the people who work as flaggers (the things in the orange stuff) are already somewhat mentally charred. It could be reasoned that you would have to be, to be able to tolerate standing in one spot for 14 hours at a time, staring dully at oncoming traffic while the blazing hot sun beats down on your crispy, peeling skin. If one were reasoning thus, one would be correct. 95% of all the people who work for us are either schizophrenic, chronic speed freaks, alcoholic, criminally insane, criminally stupid, or any combination of the above. The other five percent are usually actually damn good people, who are just there because you can make excellent money in the traffic control industry (this year's Federal wages are $14.53 per hour! Hell Yeeeahhhh!<flyhi>)(Of course, I don't make that much, because I work in the office, but what the hell).
Other than the money and the fact that you get to be outside all the time, there's really no upside to being a flagger, but we never tell people that, because we need people to maintain the safety of the roadways and keep the American Way rolling strong and all that sort of patriotic horkus.
The best way to deal with the mental pudding that develops as you stand out in the sun with hundreds of freaks trying to kill you every hour is to be a Buddhist Monk. Or, you could try being a monkey, I suppose that might help. Or you could just be very fond of a few substances that are only legal in Amsterdam, isolated spots in America, and Canada. Either way, you should always go prepared for the worst that could possibly happen -- In fact, the best approach is usually to imagine the worst thing that could possibly in a million years happen... Then go prepared for something just slightly worse than that.
Preparing for a day of flagging is somewhat akin to preparing for a major world catastrophe in which you may have to run off to the woods and survive on grubs and tree bark for an indetermined period of time.
You should always have water, food, sunscreen, rain gear, snow gear, sunglasses, earmuffs, gloves, an extra change of clothes, toilet paper, Aspirin, allergy medicine, and, of course, it never hurts to have a few diapers (just in case, you know).
It isn't a cake job, as most people think when they drive past these silly - looking fools in orange gear, but that's why the wages are good and the employees are insane<cdouble>.
<online2long>
I hope that any creatures of the Universe out there will consider all of the above if any of you are thinking about becoming flaggers. You'll have long, hot, deathly boring days ahead of you, and your brain will turn into vanilla pudding, but in the end, you'll probably have a nice PHAT paycheck coming to you. If money is worth destroying your mind from sheer boredom and frequently dealing with loony gibbering suicidal fools, then flagging is the profession for you.
And, yes, my company is an Equal Opportunity Employer, so if you're ever in Gem Village, Colorado, stop by and fill out an application. It's okay if you have antennae, bulging eyes, and green skin; hell, it'll probably be an improvement <martiansmile> (which, for those who may have missed it, is how flagging is akin to being a cabdriver in New York).
Come to us.... Coooome to the building that lurksssss.... Bwa ha ha ha haaaa!!!<bat>
In the meantime, I need some cheesecake and chocolate milk REALLY BAD, so see ya later.<run><run><run>
