Shots Across The Bow

Basic Research on Traffic: An examination of Ettorre's Observation.

Well, the vacation is over and it was great while it lasted.

I didn't look at one newspaper, look at a newscast, or surf the web for a week. Heck, I didn't even know who won the Tour de France until Sunday afternoon (Way to go, Lance!) I admit I missed posting here, and making my daily rounds of the blogosphere, but that's about to change. It's back to the grindstone for your friend and humble narrator.

And I have to go back to work, too.

The drive down was easy since we left on a Sunday morning. Light traffic and good weather, plus children who slept most of the way, let me get from Kodak to Panama City in a cozy 9 hours. The drive back, on the other hand, reminded me why I needed a vacation in the first place. We left Friday, around 10AM and immediately, I knew this ride wasn't going to be as nice.

We hit construction on the two lane highway into Panama City.

We hit rainstorms between Panama City and Dothen, Al.

We hit the lunch rush in Dothen.

And we hit Atlanta at exactly 5:15PM. On Friday.

It wasn't pleasant, but it did provide a wonderful chance to experiment with that odd phenomena, The Slow Line, also known as Ettorre's Observation, a corellary to Murphy's Law (Anything that can go wrong will go wrong) which states:

Ettorre's Observation:
The other line moves faster.
Corollary: Don't try to change lines. The other line -- the one you were in originally -- will then move faster.

Now I'm a logical man; if Ettorre is right, then the Universe holds a persoanl grudge against me, which is a mind blowing thing to contemplate. The entire sum of all that exists is out to frustrate my commute home from vacation.

Kind of an ego boost when you think about it.

But I'm a mechanist by trade; animism makes me nervous, so I decided to run a scientific test of Etoore's Observation, making use of time otherwise wasted playing the "Punch Buggy" game.

I-40 Northbound coming out of Atlanta has 7 lanes. At 5:15 on Friday, those lanes are called (in order of descending rapidity):

• the Merely Slow Lane
  
• the Slower Lane
  
• the Unbelievably Slow Lane
  
• the Lane for the Velocity Challenged
  
• the Agonizing Crawl Across the Desert in Search of Water Lane
  
• the Molasses in Vermont in February Lane
  and
  
• the Becalmed in the Doldrums of the Sargasso Sea Lane.

The tricky thing is that these lane designations change randomly. What might start out as the Merely Slow Lane may metamorph into the Unbelievably Slow Lane without apparent cause. The placement of the lane seems to be rather random as well. The slowest lane might be adjacent to the fastest, both residing in the middle of the group, or they might be on opposite ends of the highway. These observations might provide a nice problem for Chaos mathematicians to pursue, but they made my experimental design problematic. I pondered for about an hour, and finally came up with a solution. Disregarding the 12 feet of pavement I'd covered while cogitating, I estimated that I had at least 7 miles of traffic jam available for use. I determined to spend one mile in each lane and track my relative progress.

I started ina middle lane, 4th from the right, which at the time I entered it was the Slower Lane, but quickly converted into the Becalmed in the Doldrums of the Sargasso Sea Lane. I attributed this seeming confirmation of Ettorre to coincidence, and waited patiently to complete the assigned mile before changing lanes to the 6th from the left, which was moving along nicely as the Lane for the Velocity Challenged. Oddly, shortly after my arrival, it became the Molasses in Vermont in February Lane. While frustrated, at my slow progress, I was also happy that I had a data point which didn't back up Ettorre. My paranoid delusions of grandeur began to fade, until my lane slowed again, and once again became the dreaded Becalmed in the Doldrums of the Sargasso Sea Lane.

I modified my experiment a bit and began changing lines at random, trying to time my arrival to a lane which was about to become the Merely Slow Lane. Other drivers, sensing that my quest had taken on more an air of gladitorial combat than laboratory research, began to support my efforts by honking their horns, shouting, and gesturing wildly. Some even voiced their approval, albeit rather crudely, by telling me of their desire to have sex with me.

Who said no good deed goes unpunished?

Alas, I failed in my quest. Far from disproving Ettorre, my experiences on the Northbound lanes of I-40 not only confirmed his observation, but the correllary as well. However, I can take comfort in knowing that my constant lane switching shared the burden fairly amongst all the drivers in Atlanta that evening. Every lane had their turn as the slowest lane.

I'm nothing if not giving.

Posted by Rich at August 4, 2003 1:29 AM | TrackBack