Baile de Muerte.

  It's Spring Break right now and I had to make a long drive to get home.  There is something about driving 2-hours through car-infested highways that is just physically exhausting.  It really makes the butt cheeks sing once you get out of the car.

  For years, I have always thought of the highways as the most synchronized dance of death.  Every one is doing their part to not eat shit in the pile of metal, death, and fire that is known as a 15-car pile-up.  I, as the main character and choreographer of the production of Baile de Muerte, have the strict job of making sure everyone is nailing their parts in perfect harmony or I will be laughed right off of Broadway, in this case, dying like a bitch. 

  So as I was driving through hill country on my way down to Houston, there is a part of the road that goes up a hill in about a 26 degree angle.  Luckily my car can handle it, but that's not the point.  It got me thinking that this highway is nothing more than a big, not so theatrical roller coaster.  My car can go just as fast or faster as any roller coaster, the hills provide the thrills, and the other cars provide the danger.  It made time go by a little faster imagining it. 

This ride would be so bittersweet.