I set out from my tranquil life in central Pennsylvania on Monday morning to visit my family in the great white north. Not Canada, the US version of the Great White North: Maine. Let's face it, Maine might as well be part of Canada, in fact my brother told me our neigbors to the north are trying to reclaim a part of it they say we took unjustly after the war of 1812. I like Maine alright, but i've never quite fallen in love with it like my family has. And so I will make my trek north a few times a year to see them, and take in the sights. After a few days I get to go back to civilization, but to be fair to Maine and Pennsylvania, it's not to over civilized like some states. Connecticut I'm looking at you.
The Nutmeg state may be tiny, but it sure is a real pain in the ass. How can a mass of land that small have so many goddamn roads, and still have that much traffic? I sat on I-84 East just outside of Waterbury for an hour and forty five minutes due to an accident, which then screwed me for the rest of the trip. I hit The Boston area right around the evening rush hour, which set me back longer, and didn't make it to Maine until almost 10 at night.
You may be saying: "But Greazy, surely this was an isolated event, don't judge Connecticut to harshly." I say, Fuck you and fuck Connecticut. Inky and I sat on the same road two years ago for more than two hours at 8:00 at night due to road work. I once sat on 84 for an hour because the cops were trying to get horse out of the road, and I was almost late for my internship in Boston. I know it's a small sample, but I stand by my assertion that we need to give Connecticut back to the British. Or at least we must warn others. I think the best warning was given us by Dante: Lasciate ogni speransa, voi ch'intrate. Or for the Latin impaired: Abandon all hope, you who enter here. Welcome to Connecticut, Bitches.