I have this dream.
(Once you read the nonsense below, you'll understand why I found it disrespectful to quote Dr. Martin Luther King directly.)
I'll be stuck on the on-ramp, the one that takes me south. I'll be sitting on the overpass above the fancy shopping center waiting to merge, like I am every day. It will be an especially congested day, and I'll be waiting to merge for 17 minutes instead of the usual 13. I'll be struggling to stay awake.
And then "Call Me Maybe" will come on. A shot of caffeine directly to my veins.
I'll look over at the driver next to me. She'll hear it, too. We will look at each other as if to say are you thinking what I'm thinking? I'll look in front of me, and behind me. All of the drivers, stuck on this on-ramp, will be nodding in support. They will all know this has to happen.
In unison, our windows will roll down.
And we'll all start singing.
Those of us with sunroofs will break into the choreographed dance that we all just happen to know.
Suddenly, traffic will be fun.