Welcome to the Toxic Commonwealth of Massachusetts
I hate to sound like a broken record, but Massachusetts drivers are the worst.
There are two different people in this world: those who choose to vacation in warmer destinations like Florida, Mexico, or the Caribbean and those who would rather travel to colder destinations such as Canada, Iceland or, perhaps, Alaska.
For me, it's the Northeast Kingdom -- Vermont to be more specific. The beauty of the countryside relaxes my mind. I would choose St. Johnsbury over Miami any day of the week.
I had a wedding last weekend up in Burlington and made sure I gave myself plenty of time. By the time I hit the New Hampshire border, it was smooth sailing all the way up I-93 and I-89. You're surrounded by majestic mountains, river valleys, and open road stretching for miles. It's calming and enjoyable, no matter how far the ride.
Coming back home to Massachusetts is a totally different beast.
The moment I crossed the line back into Massachusetts, I could feel the anger and stress in the air surrounding my vehicle. It was like a heavy blanket was dropped out of nowhere. It altered my mood. I felt angry amid the building stress of traffic. I was no longer feeling the serotonin of a vacation getaway.
Middle fingers and flailing arms flooded the highway everywhere I looked. Honks, beeps and tire screeches rang out on the hot tar like bells. An unwelcome frustration filled my soul. My hands became clammy as I put a white-knuckle grip on the wheel.
The toxicity of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts is real and uninviting.
For those of us who live here, there's no escape, only coping mechanisms and bottled-up anger behind the wheel.
The drivers, including myself, are among the worst. I witnessed it firsthand on my way back from a peaceful trip just north of the border.
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