The worst part of my day used to be my commute, until the truth dawned on me:
For thirty minutes today I sat in a beautifully upholstered leather chair. I was able to adjust the chair’s settings so that it perfectly cradled my frame, just as I like it. Even though it was freezing outside, I was sheltered from the elements, warm and toasty. Not only that, but there were friendly people, politely offering to play me their favorite music—all of them different, but beautiful in their own way. I could have had whole orchestras playing grand symphonies for me right there in my seat, or beautiful women singing love songs to me, or the most talented rappers in the world entertaining me with their rhymes. When I wanted peace and quiet, these kind folks totally understood where I was coming from and left me to my own thoughts. Did I mention that this amazing chair of mine with all these entertainment options was actually capable of moving around? It’s true. With only the slightest gestures, I was able to bring it up to amazing speeds and command it to transport me great distances! I covered close to twenty miles in those short thirty minutes. And lest you think it was dangerous to go that fast, this wonderful chair had amazing protective devices encapsulating it. These devices would shield me at every possible angle from all but the most catastrophic collision. The wonders of this chair don’t stop there. Seriously! Here’s the best part: it was just one of five chairs within this amazing protective compartment. There were similar spots for several friends to relax right along with me.
Voilà: my commute viewed through a different lens: a luxurious experience that would be the envy of kings only a hundred years ago. In fact, when viewed the right way, my commute sounds more like a spa day than chore. And indeed it starts to feel that way!
As Louis C.K. has noted, it seems that “everything is amazing and nobody is happy.” Not me. I love it.
My daily hour in the car is awesome. Forget the other vehicles on the road and the construction and the idiots who don’t know how to drive. They are still there, of course, and they probably always will be, but so long as they don’t crash into me, they don’t have to be an impediment to my enjoyment of the wonders of our modern existence.