It used to be that I hated red lights.
They’re awful, aren’t they? Anyone approaching a traffic signal has a place to be and a time to be there, and the ideal situation includes only green lights and open roads, right?
Red lights, stop signs, traffic…these are all things meant to keep you from fully experiencing whatever event is next on your agenda.
Or so I thought.
It takes me 12 minutes to get to downtown State College from my apartment; 16 minutes if students are in town and 20 if it’s nearly 9 a.m. during the school year. I had 10 minutes to get to a meeting downtown, and I hadn’t yet put my shoes on. Crud.
I took off (yes, officer, at the speed limit), but was quickly met by the tall, broad back of a CATA bus. Along this particular single-lane stretch, it seemed the stops were each only a few feet apart.
This was not an option. At first I was late; now I was late and muttering unprintable phrases at the concept of bus stops (it seemed more reasonable at the time).
When the bus finally pulled away from one stop and through an intersection, it passed beneath a yellow light. It turned red for me. Late, angry and without my morning coffee (a dangerous state), I looked out my window for another poor soul or inanimate object to blame.
What I saw was one very out of breath man who had, it seemed, just missed his bus. This was a person I a mood worse than mine.
“Was that your bus?” The question was really out of personal interest more than anything; I was curious.
“Yeah, I’m goinna be late for work, and the next bus isn’t for 30 minutes.”
You know what they say about Catholic guilt? It’s no joke. I popped my passenger door open.
Joe Tardy and I were headed in opposite directions, but it took me very little time to get ahead of the bus (yes officer, by going the speed limit) and get him to the next stop.
Joe couldn’t have been more thankful. He has a strict boss, you see, and this boss would’ve canned him for being late again. He needed the job to help support his Penn State classes, and losing it would mean searching for a new job during the rush of applications for fall jobs.
I was 15 minutes late to an important meeting, but my biggest consequence was delaying that morning coffee (no small matter).
Had I caught the green light, nothing would have changed in my life, save for a quick shot of caffeine. Joe Tardy, on the other hand, would have lost his job.
Since that moment, I’ve found red lights to be far more fascinating than their green peers (nobody enjoys yellow lights). After all, red lights are great for:
- Trying to drown out your neighbor’s screamo music by turning up the volume on Green Day album.
- Seeing an old friend walking nearby. (Good seeing you the other day, Heather!)
- Checking that text. (Don’t text and drive. Katie Couric says you’ll turn an LOL into a great big OMG.)
- My personal favorite — grabbing a smooch from your date.
They say that it’s about the journey, not the destination. I think it’s about the hiccups in the journey. The distractions are what turn a commute into a trip and a Sunday drive into a story.
So the next time you just miss that green light, fret not. Take the opportunity to notice your surroundings. You never know what you’ve been missing.
I love red lights.
