Never, Ever ...

Speed in Maryland. That’s correct, “The Old Line State”, turns out to be nothing but a stretch of “treacherous” road for five-oh to setup their little speed traps … of DEATH. During my 1-hour whiz by the state that was named in honor of Queen Henrietta Maria, I swear I have seen no less than 20 Police units … just chillin’, lurking, and just aching to turn on the Red and Blue fun. If Henrietta can see this mess going on in her name’s sake, she would definitely be doing some serious cartwheels in her gold-laced grave.

I drive through Maryland (almost every weekend) on my way to Washington D.C. My last drive has made me dislike the state (particularly driving through it, but you can go ahead and evolve my words to the next level, Maryland SUCKS).

So I did some ‘research’ (I do so much 'research' that I barely have time to eat) on my now potentially least liked blue-state … (The red-ones all definitely place somewhere way, way, at the bottom of the list). Their state motto is: "Fatti Maschii, Parole Femine" that’s something (Probably Latin) for “Manly Deeds, Womanly Words.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? Choking the Chicken and Tampon comparisons? Toilet-seat up and complaining about Toilet-Seat being up? Taking the trash out and “Now go and rake the yard?” (Now accepting applications for exemplary statements demonstrating “Manly Deeds, Womanly Words.”)

The Road Drama: Most notable, out of the 20 police units (dispersed over a 70-mile stretch) were the two police units in Baltimore just outside Ft. McHenry tunnel (I-95 South). These bitches setup RIGHT before the toll-booths, you know, the 50 feet where you have to SLAM your brakes to go from driving at about 60 mph and slow-down to the posted limit of 10 mph.

Everyone’s driving, singing, boppin’ their head to “In Da Club” (The Beyoncé remix that starts with “No Shorty, It’s Beyoncé” and goes on to proclaim that "If the ladies wanna hate me, I'll just send 'em a bottle" which to my surprise, has never worked for me) and sure enough, Slick-Paul comes out Lights blazing. One goes out after the reckless driver in the EZ-Pass lane who had to be driving at a whopping 25 mph. Ok, so one police car in the toll booth lanes, the guy driving it is a straight-up asshole – he knows that EVERYONE coming up to a toll-booth is ‘speeding’ by normal road standards.

Ok, so everyone else is HAPPY that it wasn’t them who got nailed by said asshole cop #1. We go on our merry way of 12 mph for about 20 more feet and BAM… motherfucker #2 comes out, lights blazing. This guy is even worse than his friend. He didn’t even go after someone in the EZ-Pass lane, this guy got in line in the cash lane (disco lights on) to follow this one car. Thank god he was in-front of me, I think one of the worst feelings one could have is “Here’s my 2 dollars, Ms. Toll-Booth-Lady … and just so you know, I’m about to pull off right after I leave you here, and get my ass ticketed for god-knows how much more, so feel free to take your sweet-ass time ... In fact, I'de like my change in double-counted pennies.”

I guess deep down somewhere, I appreciate their efforts in our safety and general well-being, but you’ve got to be kidding me, in Baltimore? Isn’t your time better spent hangin’ out around the corner from ‘Club Pussy Cat’ – surely there’s got to be something more exciting than toll booth MANIACS ripping-up the I-95 asphalt. If for nothing else, you could at least get a glimpse of the strippers walking into (or out of) ‘Club Pussy Cat’ and maybe even play a game of “guess how far along she is” with your other cop buddy.

I still got love for my Maryland ‘posse’ – but maybe you guys should do like Northern Virginia and claim D.C. as “home”. No-one will probe into it any further, and if they do, you can take comfort in knowing that any of the following answers: Baltimore, Bethesda, Annapolis, Gaithersburg, Ellicott City and Silver Spring would be more ‘Cool’ than anything Northern VA-ish.

On the contrary, the 20 or so miles of I-95 road through Delaware are just safe, empty and oh-so-sweet. No cops, no cars, no construction, no lights, no mile markers, barely any asphalt, no lines on the road and most importantly NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PLACE TO STOP AT AN ATM because you forgot that you don’t have cash for the tolls. Bless their heart.

Note: Now, I have one State down. Eventually, at some point, I hope to develop some sort of ‘beef’ with a total of 49 states. I’ll have to settle and learn to love the 50th one (as long as it’s not: Ohio, West Virginia, Nebraska, North Dakota, South Dakota, North & South Carolina, Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Iowa … I could go on, but I really don’t know all the states by heart. There, I said it).