If you're stuck in the left lane behind somebody turning left, you
turn on your blinker and, far more often than not, the guy in the
right lane will let you in. The guy provides you only a second or
two to make your move, and if you don't, you're out of luck. But
that second or two is the traffic equivalent of a miracle. In New
York, they'd speed up to fill the gap. In
Boston, they'd be
tailgating so closely there would be no gap in the first place. But
here in the nation's capital, they give you a fighting chance.
This isn't what you'd expect in
Washington. This isn't what you'd
expect anywhere. I think it derives from the fact that there seems
to be a law against left-hand turn signals. There also seems to be
a law that requires buses to stop every seven feet in the right
lane or, if there are no buses, to have cars parked there. This
means that the right lane is molasses slow and the left lane is
breezy - until it stops dead, which is often. Everybody, then, ends
up stuck in the left lane half the time. A sort of arterial
courtesy has developed that says, in effect, You scratch my back,
I'll scratch yours.
I would not know that this is a custom, and would have no reason to
expect it to be one, if I weren't getting to know this place.
These are the little things that you come to know about your new
hometown after you've started to figure out the big things.
I know, for example, what a half-smoke is. No, it has nothing to do
with a partially ingested contraband cigarette. A half-smoke is a
type of sausage. Made of beef and pork, it is smoked for a short
time, which makes it half smoked as opposed to whole smoked. I also
know the best place to get one: Ben's Chili Bowl, a great old dive
off the beaten tourist path.
How to get a Senator's shine on my face. Blinking and moving. Where
to get a half-smoke.