"I thought this would make the gate go up." "No sir that's jut a piece of paper."

Hows is it that cobble-stone streets in Rome have survived dating back centuries, yet the average road in State College (and lo, throughout the country) can only last from one summer to the next before needing to undergo some kind of mad construction project? I suspect a widespread and well coordinated conspiracy is at work, facilitated by the efforts of the united road workers of America. I wish I could have been at the meeting when some einstein conceived of the indefinite amount of profit available if, thenceforth, asphalt were only to be held together by elmers glue. A momentous occasion no doubt, forging then and there a thorn per every person's side who choses to drive between the months of May through August. It's a sad moment when you realize that you're paying taxes to huff car exhaust in 80 degree weather, stuck in traffic whilst the car in front of you's sound system overpowers yours with a smattering of taste-forsaken, nasel-tuned, pop-alternative (alternative to everything that sounds short of making want to die) gravel rock.

I bring this up today, while at work, because construction has an entire half of the road directly behind me blocked off. True, I am not suffering the pains of sitting in traffic or negotiating unforeseen detours, but what I am experiencing is a violation of the pleasant sanctuary I have established here in the exit booth kiosk. What was once a haven for psuedo-intellectual and contemplative thought is now a mere shelter from the thundering clamours of jack-hammers and dump trucks. How am I supposed to work if I can't effectively fall asleep every 15 minutes for a power-nap? What's more, every person exitting the garage who likewise has suffered an inconvenience due to said construction, feels the need to air their greivance with me. As if, as the only (part-time I should add) Penn State employee readily available for conversation, I naturally, and by default, am responsible for whatever problem is taking place within sight. "Yes ma'am it's true. I hired all those men across the street just to piss you off today. I'm one of those higher-up administrative types who made it big at the age of 18 and now likes to kick it down here at the garages with the lay-workers. Thank you for coming."