I called my best friend from childhood, Ronnie Mazzuca, whom I've known since I was 4 and he was 3, and asked him the best way to get to his condo outside Philly. I was going to drive down to a big wedding bash this weekend, and wanted to minimize the time and hassle of getting through the NYC traffic logjam.
Ronnie told me to go the Tappanzee Bridge and avoid "all that mess" over the George Washington Bridge. Something in me told me to go the GW Bridge and hold the Tappanzee for some other time. I don't know why but it all worked out for the best 'cause I got me an hour's dancin' time in "all that mess" yesterday afternoon, on what I now realize is actually the George Washington Auto Disco. I'd better explain.
I'd just finished the Alice in Chains album I'd borrowed from Russell Library through Inter-Libary Loan (ILL) and downloaded on my I-pod just before leaving Middletown yesterday to drive down to Philly for my cousin's son's wedding bash. I had a new Motley Crue album to listen to, but I already loved the one I had on the I-pod from long before, and I hadn't heard any Metallica in recent years, so I decided to crank up Metallica and pump in through the car stereo speakers.
As I was turning up the volume, the "Long Delays on Bridge" signs started flashing their message of doom and gloom. For all I know, it could have been my best friend Ronnie, whom I've known since I was 4 1/2, who was controlling those electronic signs from Philly, like a Bridge Sign Deity, all Cassandra-like, reminding me why my choice of the GW versus the Tappanzee was Un-Wise, Dumb, Stupid-o.
At this moment, I was in the right-most of three lanes of blocked up traffic. On the way down to the bridge, on I-95, whenever I passed anybody in the left lane to get around the slow-poke driver, once I'd put the sucker in my rear-view mirror, I'd start doing the "car dance" moves. Left hand on the wheel, right arm extended all the way to the right, Eminem movement of the right arm, up and down, chopping at the air, and all the other moves you can do in the Mezzo or Titanium or Shadow Room discos, back in Middletown. So I just started doin' all those moves, right there in my car, and the people in the van behind me at first thought I just crazy. But then, as I continued, I think they realized that maybe I WAS crazy but it also looked like I was havin' a heck-uv-a lot of fun. And the lady in the passenger seat took out her I-phone and began filming the show. Her husband was driving and smiling.
Now they finally realized I had half a brain left when they saw the New York Port Authority Police car SUV pulling up behind us in the far left lane. And whenever the police car was in such a location that he or she would have been able to see what I was doing, all that Subaru Dancin', I just moved my hands and arms back into normal driving position. This happened a few times, until the far left lane traffic was able to move far ahead of the middle and far right lanes of traffic.
The van behind me with the Connecticut plate eventually was replaced by another van, this one from Maine, with a mother driving and her two daughters getting a real big kick out of my shenigans. The young ladies began filming or photographing the performance with their I-phones. This inspired me to up the ante and as my car slowed to a stop, and then back up to a very slow crawl, I began opening my driver's door and moving the door back and forth to the music, to increase the visual appeal of the dancin'. At one point, a large truck with a very shiny stainless steel trailer passed me slowly, the passenger smiled down at me, broadly, and the truck driver pulled on his air horn four or five times in appreciation of the show. In response, I beeped the Outback's more modest horn, also four or five beeps.
Every passing car, on left or right, was greeted by my waving my fingers in their direction, trying to get a response from the few very impassive, implacable passengers, on my left, or drivers, on my right. Mostly they all appreciated the diversion my dancin' insanity provided me on the very clogged up George Washington Bridge.
By the time we made it to the bridge itself, the traffic jam cleared out, we resumed a normal speed, and I returned to my conventional driving position: no dancin', no hamming for the crowds, no over-the-top perfomance for the videographers recording my Outback Dancin' Moves for YouTube posting or later replaying for the other drivers' and passengers' personal or familial edification and pleasure.
I wish I had some video proof of this performance, but I had no way to communicate with any of them. I did, however, happen upon this little video on my Facebook Friend's Wall, which shows a bunch of Kia salesmen doing a kind of out-of-Kia-soul car dance performance which gives us an idea of other creative ways cars and dancing can be combined, for fun and jest. To see this little 1:47 minute gem, just click below on the link, sit back, turn down your car stereo and 3D car TV, and enjoy......