Driving to the beach one clear sunlit morning, I came across bumper to bumper highway traffic and observed a strange phenomenon: my neighbors all seemed oblivious to their surroundings, their cars all somber shades of gray and black.

The charcoal gray truck to my right had its windows rolled up, air conditioner blasting the driver’s hair around her unsmiling lips, the metal music droning forth from her car radio doing nothing to erase the tension that her ramrod straight shoulders conveyed. The lushly verdant trees lining the roadside reflected off the hood of her gloomy black car, resolutely trying to capture her attention. She only donned sunglasses that covered her irritatedly furrowed eyebrows and cranked her music even higher.

I looked to my left and again noticed the same phenomenon. The driver was talking robotically into his cell phone, no expression evident on his face other than an unseeing, disrespectful stare straight ahead towards the tinkling waves of the ocean. He had a massive briefcase obscuring the view from his passenger window and his visor was resolutely set against his windshield, allowing no smiling sunshine to trickle into the car’s coal black leather interior. The Mercedez-Benz emblem sticking out of the car’s hood was so glaringly polished that it hampered my vision of the flowers blooming on the middle of the highway. There was a freshly pressed suit hanging on a hook within its very own body bag, lifeless like it’s owner. Since the driver’s window was also tightly sealed, no wind or smell of sea-brine interfered with the driver’s immaculately groomed hairstyle.

I turned away and stared straight ahead. The wooden sided station wagon in front of me was loaded with bodies - all except the driver were asleep and he was yawning, head falling forward even as he opened his window, trying to force the wind to keep him awake. There were plastic window coverings that confined the occupants within a box of wood, metal, and glass. The only sign of life was a cross swinging rhythmically from the rearview mirror, its delicate silver chain dancing in the sunlight.

A glance at my own rearview mirror revealed a car whose teenage occupants were scarcely tall enough to reach the wheel, much less admire the landscape. The passenger was reading a book and the driver was resting her head on the back of her seat, indifferently staring up at the ceiling. Both girls had headphones shackled to their earlobes, listlessly unaware of a flock of seagulls that had just flown past.

The sleepy car in front of me gradually changed lanes, allowing me access to an exit ramp. I looked back for a moment at the funeral procession I had left behind me, then I flew my car towards the beach that was just barely becoming visible, its white dunes and bright light beckoning.

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