sadistic glee
Wednesday, 24 August 2005 07:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtOne of the huge drawbacks of this academic lifestyle (and I realise that at least half of my hard-working Dear Readers will have absolutely no sympathy with this) is, in fact, the fact that I get to sleep in most mornings. This becomes a Bad Thing because it renders particularly cruel and unusual the 6am wakes necessary for first-period teaching if I am not to lose it completely and slay six with my teeth in early-morning traffic.
This morning was OK, except for a horrible traffic light unsynchronisation on Main Rd, so that we sat for three or four changes with only one car being able to turn across the intersection at a time. I was growling and swearing when the two cars in front of me, both Big Important Cars clearly driven by Big Important Men, suddenly lost patience and cut across the intersection on red. Clearly, their Big Important Lives were too Big and Important for the normal traffic rules that apply to the rest of us plebes. What they hadn't noticed was the traffic cop car sitting quietly in the left lane next to them. He cheerfully put on his siren and gave chase, and as I finally toddled decorously up the hill, I had the huge and vindictive pleasure of seeing the two of them pulled over, being both ticketed and Shouted At with positively Vogonnish skill, by a Big Muscular Traffic Cop. Heh. I got in more cackling practice all the way up to campus.
Speaking of traffic cops, I went wine-routing with jo&stv yesterday, cheerfully ignoring all demands academic and pedagogical on my time. This had not much to do with traffic cops and everything to do with excellent wine (mmmm, Jordan), hilarious company, a very good lunch at Delaire, and something of a rollicking progress back to Cape Town by a rather sloshed trio*. The trip back was absolutely unenlivened by traffic cops, fortunately, as I think Jo was somewhat illegal to drive, but very much enlivened by the extended fantasy of what would have happened if a traffic cop had pulled us over and tried to ticket 37 roaches for not wearing their seat-belts. We decided the little buggers would have lined up, waving their feelers and chittering in a somewhat embarrassed and feeble fashion, until the partial anti-crime training had kicked in, at which point they would have shrugged, skeletonised the cop in seconds, and we could have buried the body in the bushes and gone on our merry way.
Maybe next time.
* The various winefarms gave us funny looks every time we shouted "Quick! To the Roachmobile!" and lit up the big batroach sign on the clouds.
This morning was OK, except for a horrible traffic light unsynchronisation on Main Rd, so that we sat for three or four changes with only one car being able to turn across the intersection at a time. I was growling and swearing when the two cars in front of me, both Big Important Cars clearly driven by Big Important Men, suddenly lost patience and cut across the intersection on red. Clearly, their Big Important Lives were too Big and Important for the normal traffic rules that apply to the rest of us plebes. What they hadn't noticed was the traffic cop car sitting quietly in the left lane next to them. He cheerfully put on his siren and gave chase, and as I finally toddled decorously up the hill, I had the huge and vindictive pleasure of seeing the two of them pulled over, being both ticketed and Shouted At with positively Vogonnish skill, by a Big Muscular Traffic Cop. Heh. I got in more cackling practice all the way up to campus.
Speaking of traffic cops, I went wine-routing with jo&stv yesterday, cheerfully ignoring all demands academic and pedagogical on my time. This had not much to do with traffic cops and everything to do with excellent wine (mmmm, Jordan), hilarious company, a very good lunch at Delaire, and something of a rollicking progress back to Cape Town by a rather sloshed trio*. The trip back was absolutely unenlivened by traffic cops, fortunately, as I think Jo was somewhat illegal to drive, but very much enlivened by the extended fantasy of what would have happened if a traffic cop had pulled us over and tried to ticket 37 roaches for not wearing their seat-belts. We decided the little buggers would have lined up, waving their feelers and chittering in a somewhat embarrassed and feeble fashion, until the partial anti-crime training had kicked in, at which point they would have shrugged, skeletonised the cop in seconds, and we could have buried the body in the bushes and gone on our merry way.
Maybe next time.
* The various winefarms gave us funny looks every time we shouted "Quick! To the Roachmobile!" and lit up the big batroach sign on the clouds.
