By Andrej Nikolaidis, CdM columnist
How many times has it happened to you that you patiently wait in a line of cars? There’s been an accident and the queue stretches all the way to the sea on one side and to the hills on the other. It’s hot, boring. If you have them, and your wife and kids are in the car, they’re nagging about something. They’re telling you, like, that you didn’t listen to them, and if you had, you’d already be home—but you didn’t, because you never listen to what you’re told, which is why you’re not home now, where you would be resting instead of sitting in this sunlit queue, if only you had listened, if you ever listened at all—but you don’t, so you always end up stuck like this, instead of already being home, where you’d be now if you had listened, if you were even capable of listening, which you clearly aren’t, so now you’re stuck here instead of home, where you would have been long ago if you had listened… People get out of their cars and, in anger, walk in circles: cursing the country that, they say, doesn’t even exist. “Everything here is falling apart like it has cancer,” someone says.
Okay, you know that situation—you’ve been in it?
Then you also know it’s only a matter of time before someone decides to move into the other lane and overtake the whole queue. Sooner or later, more sooner than later, someone concludes that waiting is for fools, not for him, who considers himself the greatest king of all. Then others follow, thinking: I’m no worse than him, I’m going too.
And then that crowd of idiots reaches the accident site and the police and creates an even worse traffic jam, because they block the lane they used for overtaking.
These ‘big shots’ end up creating a real mess for themselves, clog the road like a sewer, but it doesn’t matter: those few moments of superiority, while they pass arrogantly and the fools wait in line, are worth it.
So, let me ask you: have you ever thought that maybe we who wait in line are really fools? Because: have you ever heard of any of those overtakers being held accountable or punished? I haven’t. Here, if you follow the rules, you do it at your own risk.
And let me add this: it’s not like we ourselves don’t help break the rules. Do you flash your headlights at people to warn them there’s police on the road? I do, too. It makes sense to warn some old man in a red Golf 2. But those bald sons of darkness in SUVs, and our racers, so young, so stupid—it would be a blessing if the police stopped them. That’s what you think. And yet, you catch yourself flashing your lights anyway. Because we are a culture of outlaws, and you can’t escape that. When we see someone running from authority—which is always someone else’s—we help them. Snitching is shameful here—though of course that doesn’t mean it has never happened. Farting is shameful too, yet we still do it.
Then there are those veterans, the big shots who park in disabled parking spaces in front of supermarkets because those spots are closest to the entrance/exit. Do we warn them? Of course not. So, we take part in breaking the rules ourselves. The guy just came from training, benched 180, moved 25 tons of iron from place to place, and now he doesn’t want to tire himself carrying a bag of milk and bread five extra meters. Here’s a business idea—this would work perfectly in Montenegro: drive-through markets. Then people wouldn’t have to get out of their cars, they wouldn’t have to strain themselves, but just roll down the window, say what they want, take it, and pay. People wouldn’t have to be unnecessarily humiliated, walking through parking lots and between supermarket aisles while their new car sits outside, with no one knowing it belongs to them. If the cashier happens to catch your eye, she would immediately see what you drive—no need to say anything.
Anyway, what was I trying to say?
No idea. If I knew, I wouldn’t be waiting in line.
(Columnists’ opinions and views are not necessarily those of the CdM editorial team)
