Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng

Every good Wednesday morning should start off with a brush with the law.
So. There I was, driving to work, minding my own business, enjoying the flow of traffic along I-10. It was moving pretty briskly at first. That was odd, because normally I spend my commute imagining I'm riding in the most boring parade in history, smiling and waving at the cars around me and wishing I hadn't thrown my last strand of beads already.
As I-10 began to merge onto 610, all progress stopped. I sat behind a Ford Explorer which kept flashing through the reverse lights as the driver kept putting it in and out of Park. Side note: I freaking hate that guy.
At this point in my commute, the road really only offers two choices. I can continue to 610 South and ride 6-7 minutes to the parking garage at work or I could take 610 North and ride into a completely unknown adventure through a part of town where the view of the $350,000 townhouses is obstructed by homeless people and illegal day workers.
I watched the blue flashy lights on the motorcycles in front of the Ford Explorer and waited. I didn't want to go north.
Then, one of Houston's finest wandered up to my car and said simply, "An hour."
"Excuse me?" The sentence fragment had taken me off guard. I thought to correct him, but decided I'd been Tazered enough for one lifetime.
"It'll be about an hour. You can wait or you can find another way."
"What happened?" I asked, stalling before committing myself to a trek into the unknown North.
"Cement," was his simple reply.
There were tons of cement everywhere. I had made the observation to myself some time before that most of the Interstate structure seemed to have been formed from the stuff. Pre-coffee, I was still confused.
"Really? Cement?"
"It'll be an hour this way, unless you want to drive through wet cement." He was obviously ready to move to the car behind me.
"Yeah. Not so much. It's never as much fun as it looks like on TV. Like that time Sheriff Coltrane ended up in it after crashing through that barricade and scattering those ducks and the brim of his hat broke off and came down over his face." I babble when I'm forced to deviate from my planned course.
"That was Enos," he clarified.
"I'll just go north now," I offered.
"Good idea."