Fasten Your Seatbelts

And to quote AFI’s 94th greatest movie quote of all time:

"I’ve got the need – the need for speed!"

I don’t have any good speeding ticket stories to relay, so please check out Rob’s and Sara’s recent accounts for highway hijinx blogging. No, there are no police cars or high-speed chases in this story, just a battle for the road between two fine specimens of vehicular craftsmanship. This road (figuratively speaking) isn’t big enough for the both of them.

(Literally speaking, it was a four-lane road, so I guess it is.)

The setting is a traffic light on Eisenhower Avenue in Alexandria, VA. Alexandria, as few may know, stands only slightly behind LeMans, Indianapolis, and Daytona as a mecca for high-performance racers. Some would say I was in said mecca because of the caliber of car I drive. (Others would say I was on my way to class.)

As I toed the intersection line in my street warrior, a ’99 Honda Accord, I knew that no one ruled the road like me. I’ve got the finest features of a top-notch driving machine: air conditioning, seats, power windows, 3 out of 4 doors that work. I move in a veritable drag race dream. As far as I’m concerned I own the road. But then hesitation pulled up along side of me.

Lamborghini. Countach.

I thought those things were just in the movies. But sure enough, a bright red monster of a sports car had lined up at the traffic light to my left. If you need a visual, click here. And the guy inside this thing? Older white guy, probably late 50s. Cool glasses. Sharply Dressed. I couldn’t make out what he was listening to, but to take away from his visage of cool, I’m going to report it as Paul Anka.

So there we were, two road warriors waiting side-by-side at the traffic light at Cameron Parke Place. Now kids, YAB does not in any way endorse drag racing. It is very illegal, very dangerous, and just plain not feasible in rush hour traffic. Fortunately, Mr. Countach shares the same respect and concern as YAB for driving safety and the law, so he wasn’t about to blast off the line, either.But the score still needs settling.

I don’t know where Mr. Countach was headed, but frankly, I didn’t care. I needed to prove once and for all which was a better brand of sports car – a Lamborghini or an Accord. He appeared to not even care that I was staring him down, but I’m sure he was just bluffing. He knew just as well as I did that once that traffic lights turns, he and I would be deadlocked in a clash of high octane proportions. Nothing left to do but grab the wheel with both hands, slide my foot closer to the gas pedal, and watch.

Green.

Both of us left the line in a fury of slow and safe acceleration. Side by side, barreling down this residential street, we both moved faster and farther from our meeting point. After 12 seconds, we had both made it to our top speed. Thirty-Five Miles Per Hour. Now both combatants in this drag race could push their pedals to the their respective metal, but there’s local law enforcement that would prefer we didn’t. So there we were. Neck and neck at 35 mph.

I don’t stand for ties.

Giving it everything I had, I push my car to the limit. I couldn’t let Smirky McFancycar win this battle, even if he Is still feigning like we aren’t actually racing. Here I go…36…37…

And it was at 38 miles per hour that I proved to the world that an Italian sports car is no match a ’99 Honda Accord.

Classified Information

First things first. Last night CBS aired the American Film Institute’s Top 100 Movie Quotes List. As always with AFI, I was thoroughly impressed. You can check the list out at www.afi.com. This would have been a tremendous topic for today, had I not already used it back in November. (Check out Spud’s 70’s picks in the comments. I think I saw every last one make the list.)

Second things second. Watching these types of shows makes me want to evaluate my owb movie collection and its merits in the history of cinema. If you are going to be a movie collector (and I do endorse such a hobby), there are no set rules of how such a DVD assortment should be composed. There’s only one rule: Buy what you like. It’s your money, and those are your eyes. As for me, I pride my collection on being a delicate blend of the best movies and the most entertaining and fun to watch. For every critically acclaimed Schindler’s List in the stacks, I’ve got a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. For every mindless joyride named Armageddon, there’s a Bridge on the River Kwai.

Ok, so if you do have a movie collection, and if it’s growing past the level that you can precariously balance on top of your television, you’re going to need a classification system. When you are just starting out, say, under 30 flicks, alphabetizing them will do just dandy. But as it grows, that’s not going to cut it anymore. You won’t be able to fulfill a “what your in the mood for” feeling by scanning A-Z. That’s where YAB steps in.

The Prodigal Roommate and I, upon moving into the apartment back in 2003, devised the patent pending Random Run Classification System. And we now bestow it upon the good readers of YAB. The premise is simple. Any movie that you buy will fall into one of our 14 genres. An eclectic and varied collection should find a normal distribution into each of the 14.

Type A – Standard Movie Genres
Action – Does stuff blow up? Put it here. Examples: Die Hard, Desperado, Gone in 60 Seconds.
Comedy – Movies that have the primary intention of making you laugh. As you will see, this supergenre has been pared down a bit by other categories, but is still necessary. Examples: Airplane!, Monty Python, Stripes.
Drama – Always has been a vague and massive genre. Most often a sweeping story that relies on the script and the acting. Examples: Dead Poets Society, A Beautiful Mind, Rain Man.
Horror – Scary Stuff that intends to be scary stuff. Examples: Scream, The Sixth Sense, What Lies Beneath.

Type B – Fringe Movie Genres
Adventure – It’s action, but with a purpose! Examples: Pirates of the Caribbean, Indiana Jones Trilogy.
Family – Fun for the whole clan (or for just you, if you lack said clan). Examples: Shrek, Chicken Run, The Santa Clause
Romantic Comedy – If it’s after your heart and funny bone simultaneously, stick it here. Examples: The American President, Shakespeare in Love, High Fidelity
Thriller – Ah, yes, too often lumped with action movies in collections, these movies are driven by suspense, not explosives. Examples: North by Northwest, The Game, Bourne Identity.
War – There’s so many action movies out there, that fingering through all the titles could grow tiresome. Do you want a movie with military force? Examples: Platoon, Braveheart, Hunt for Red October.

Type C – Chrispud Original Genres
Crime Drama – For every movie that doesn’t quite fit into drama, think about the plotline. If it centers around commiting a crime, going to jail, or appearing in court, it’s a crime drama. Example: A Few Good Men, Road to Perdition, L.A. Confidential, Silence of the Lambs
Dramedy – Is it serious? Is it funny? Avoid a decision and select Dramedy! Examples: Almost Famous, Truman Show, With Honors, Big
Indie – Some movies just have that feel of low-budget, great story, original work. So even if it is a major studio work, put it here. No one will know. Examples: Pulp Fiction, Clerks, Memento, Hackers, Trainspotting
Sports – The tone of these flicks span so many genres, why not pull them together into one? Examples: Field of Dreams, Cool Runnings, Seabiscuit, Varsity Blues
Sci-Fi/Stuff That Can’t Happen – This should grab all of the standard fantasy movies, but should also incorporate any movie that requires involvement of non-horror supernatural intervention, extraordinary ability, and unexplainable phenomenon. Example: The Matrix, Star Wars, Frequency, Spider-Man, Back to the Future.

Hello Moto!

It’s the end of an era.

I could get colloquial and verbose on such an occasion, but frankly, the honoree deserves neither. A hero marching home from war deserves a parade. A beloved icon can expect some fanfare after a long and storied career. A king can be the center of grand gala so that the kingdom may show their gratitude. But no. None of that will happen in this instance.

My cell phone is being retired. Period.

That’s right. Despite whatever silly allegiance I pledged in this delirious March post. Now I’m not doing a 180 on my prior logic, when I stated that the level of service I require is “Marginally Functional.” I haven’t lost that minimal requirement. It’s just that old Kyocera Version 1.01 can’t hack it anymore. It’s time to lay this phone of three years to rest and join the rest of you in the world of flip-phones, picture-taking, and Styx ringtones. There’s just one problem.

I think my old phone is on to us.

Ever since I placed my order for its replacement last Monday, the Kyocera has been behaving worse that usual. It definitely has figured out that I’ve been out seeing other phones for the last few weeks, and furthermore, that I’ve made a commitment to another handset. As I have waited patiently for Motorola to make its grand arrival over the past week, Kyocera has made it clear that it’s going to go out with a blaze of glory.

Hell hath no fury like a scorned cellphone.

For most of last week, it was the same old stuff that made us grow far apart. When people would call me, the screen would glow blue (as it should) and be blank (as it shouldn’t). When I would call people, I had to emulate the Micro Machines guy and get everything I have to say out in the 3.5 minutes of talk time my battery would allow. Thus has become standard operating procedure, and thus, I thought nothing of it.

Once I confirmed that the new model would arrive this week, that’s when Kyocera flew off the handle. After all, in comparison the replacement is no ordinary model; ‘tis a supermodel. And this did not sit well. Not well at all.

This past weekend, I had to endure altogether system shutdown. The phone magically kept its energy at a level where it wasn’t high enough to, I don’t know, call and answer, but just enough to say “I’m going to make you regret your decision for the rest of my life.” And when I tried to up the juice in the battery, I might as well been trying to plug my phone into a flagpole. Nothing. Turns out the contacts in the charger have conveniently gone dead. Yeah. Coincidence I’m sure.

I’ve would have better luck calling people with my shoe.

Well, as I have sat here typing this, old friend, a certain somebody has shown up in my cube. And after I get through the activation protocol, which I expect to take all of four minutes, it will be System Shutdown for one last final time.

Well, it would be if the battery hadn’t been dead since Saturday.

Driving Home a Point

After all this time in the DC area, it’s surprising I haven’t focused on traffic earlier. I’m not going to champion this city’s cause of being the most congested roadmap in the country, because I’ve got to believe there are towns out there that have it worse. Los Angeles, New York – they’ve got to have at least the same number of vehicles, but with half the civic engineering foresight. No matter how you look at it, DC at least has a decent highway installation that makes logical sense. Now only if we can get the federal government to relocate operations to Leesburg…

With that said, today I will try and apply common sense and logic to this city’s traffic problem. Sadly, I have no solution to actually fixing it – unless you let me pass a law that bans all tractor trailers, Virginia State Trooper cruisers, and Honda Civics from the roads (these three classes account for 87% of all vehicles on I-66.) I could also suggest that we stop funding senseless appropriations in VA for a few years (like the mythical I-495 Mixing Bowl) and divert all funding to finishing the Metro to Dulles. And on this Metro, they will serve light refreshments. I’m thinking cookies and Fresca. No doubt, people will get off the roads then.

But until I get the Zack Morris-patented ability to call Time-Out and freeze time to make the necessary budget adjustments, it appears we are all stuck. But do not feel defeated, good commuters. YAB is providing a special service to you today, as we look to debunk some of the mysteries of the interstate. Today we tackle the Theory, no wait, the LAW of Vehicular Car-ma. Enjoy.

It’s fairly simple, really. In the vein of Isaac Asimov, the Law of Vehicular Car-ma can be easily and comprehensively stated in the form of three rules:

1. There is no such thing as luck when driving.
2. Positive and negative occurrences when driving yield a zero-sum equation.
3. Honking your horn will not affect your Car-ma.

Ok, now I shall explain it in something other than Dorkspeak. When someone reads you a chapter from their novel of woe about having a treacherous time on their drive home, or to the game, or whatever, you can let them know that due to Vehicular Car-ma, there will be an equal and opposite driving experience where that person will have everything go right. Conversely, if someone brags to you about their ability to cruise to your place despite it being 5 o’clock on the Friday before Memorial Day, you can bet the ranch that sometime in the near future they will be slowed to such a crawl that Granny McOldsmobile pass them.

I will use my driving experience yesterday to further explain the Law. Driving from Manassas to Alexandria to the abode of Mr. Andersen, I took Rte. 1 South, just by the stores at Potomac Yard (for Jerseyites, think the stores in Moorestown). On this short one mile stretch of road in front of this mecca of commerce, there must 8 traffic lights. I got stuck at 7. But did I get angry? No. Did I honk my horn (See Rule 3 above.)? No. I knew that sometime soon I would come into good navigational fortune.

Sure enough, I decided to stare my traffic lights nemesis square in the face as I left to go home last night – and my chosen route would be right down the heart of Old Town Alexandria. 13 traffic lights from end-to-end. After waiting at the very first one, I cruised through every last one. 13-0 streak. I made it home in record time. And all was right again on the scorecard for the Driver Condon.

Vehicular Car-ma extends past traffic lights as well. Take the gridlock of rush hour. For every lane you choose that hits a pocket of progress, you will get stuck in a lane that you cannot get out of. It’s just a balancing act.

You can gain more than some by your knowledge of the road, however. If you know that the right-most lane will be the victim of a slow merge at some point, it would be wise to stay left. But this advance is a product of skill, not luck.

Everybody is susceptible to the Law, no matter how good a driver you are. You can only hope that the good Car-ma hits at the times when you most need it, and the bad Car-ma counters at a time where you’re in no hurry whatsoever. Got it? Good.

Time to go get me some cookies and Fresca.

I'm Your...Your Density.

The year is 2005. Twenty years later, 37 year-old Marty McFly has returned to the quiet California town of Hill Valley. After spending the morning in a nostalgic haze near the Clock Tower, he drives his brand new shiny black truck over to the house of an old friend, the recently retired Emmett “Doc” Brown. This is where we join them…

MARTY: Doc! Wow, DOC! It’s really you! It’s so good to see you! And Einstein, she’s had puppies! Wait, Einey was a girl? Nevermind. Look, I was just in downtown Hill Valley and I miss everything that we saw happen over the years. I want to go back, back in time to-
DOC: Marty! There’s no time!
MARTY: Doc! There’s always time. You’ve got the DeLorean. We can just set the circuits for 1985 and-
DOC: Marty, I sold the DeLorean on eBay so that I could retire. The new time machine is a 1990 Volvo Tank. Now we time travel in true style! But that’s neither here nor there. Marty, if you want to see 1985, rent our DVD. If you want to see a great story of romance and, follow me back…to the future!
MARTY: Don’t you mean past?
DOC: Shut up!

The Volvo heads back in time to August 22, 2001.

MARTY: Why are we in Williamsburg, Virginia? And what’s with all those college students with bright yellow shirts?
DOC: This is William and Mary, and those students, my boy, are the Orientation Staff for the incoming freshmen. This is their training week. Standing outside Washington Hall on a sunny afternoon sure beats being cooped up inside, that’s for sure. Now watch as the always tall, always clever Assistant Director Chris meets the strikingly beautiful staff rookie, Katie.
MARTY: What’s with the flowery language, Doc?
DOC: I’m trying to impress Clara, the schoolteacher I met in Back to the Future Part III. And as you can see, so is Chris, because Katie will, too, be a school teacher –
MARTY: Don’t say it –
DOC: in the FUTURE!
MARTY: I should have seen that coming. So look, Doc, I’ve got to get back before Jennifer wakes up on her porch swing –
DOC: Ok, ok. Kids these days! Always in a hurry to get somewhere. I’ll fill you in on these two in the car. So Chris and Katie met at Orientation training briefly, but then hit it off more formally at Katie’s 21st birthday at Paul’s Deli. Following a trip to a campus coffee shop after an a cappella concert later that month, their first official date was a trip to Baskin Robbins. Their friendship grew into a relationship over the course of their senior year, complete with fireside chats, Frisbee catches, and long walks on an empty golf course…
MARTY: Uh, Doc? If we don’t hit 88 miles per hour, we’re going to crash right into the Thomas Jefferson statue…DOC!

(the Volvo disappears in thin air. It reappears just a mile away at the amphitheatre at Lake Matoaka, still at William and Mary. The time circuits read June 20, 2004, 7:07pm.)

DOC: After all this time travel, Marty, you haven’t figured it out. It’s not WHAT we’re going to hit, it’s WHERE we’re going to hit. What time is it? GREAT SCOTT! Ok, we’re a few minutes early. As I was saying, Chris and Katie graduated William and Mary, and both found themselves in the DC Metro area shortly thereafter. Katie went to work as a teacher and Chris as a financial analyst for SAIC. Even DC rush hour couldn’t keep these two from growing closer together.
MARTY: Quit monologue-ing, would ya? Shhh! So, when are we?
DOC: That’s Chris, down on his knee, and that’s Katie, accepting his marriage proposal. Of course, this day had much more to it. Chris took Katie to their alma mater for a nice daytrip. They did many of the things they’d always talked about doing, but never have time to in the midst of their hectic work schedules. It started with lunch at the Cheese Shop, followed by a leisurely walk down through Colonial Williamsburg and campus. They stopped to play Frisbee outside Swem Library, and even walked over the infamous Crim Dell bridge. All day long, Katie wondered if this day would become THE day. But after dinner, as Chris drove them back to campus for only a quick visit to Lake Matoaka, it seemed as if it wasn’t to be today. But as you can see, Marty, there’s the surprise ending to this story, as he kneels down in front of her at lake’s edge. The rest is history. Or is it the future?
MARTY: I wonder if my proposal to Jennifer happened on as beautiful a day as this one. Doc, can I-
DOC: Marty, what have I told you about that? Knowing the details about your own future can be catastrophic to the whole space-time continuum!
MARTY: Alright, alright. Look, Katie’s calling her family now!
DOC: Yes, on their trip back to Northern Virginia, they’ll call just about everybody they know. It was indeed a wonderful day. But enough of this sitting around, we’ve got to go! Check the glove compartment, Marty.
MARTY: What’s this? A letter? (opens it) It’s an invitation to the wedding of Christopher Condon and Katherine Pretz, to be held August 13, 2005. And we’re invited? Doc, we have got to get back!
DOC: Yes indeed Marty. Back. To the FUTURE!