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Jun. 18th, 2008 08:37 pmA few weeks ago I signed up for Comedy Traffic School, and I must have clicked the wrong button on the signup website, because when I got there today we were doing Tragedy Traffic School instead.
We all put on these big clay masks, with exaggerated faces of anguish, and acted out scenes of pride and foolishness on the road, narrated by the thick-soled Chorus who worked at the school. We all wept terribly with the pain and sorrow of it, but we all felt refreshed afterward.
Then in the last few scenes, we got new clay masks, with cars for faces instead, and we continued acting out scenes. I don't know if it was the power of theatrical suggestion, or magnets, or enchanted masks, or what, but my sense of proprioception changed. I could feel my wheels and gears and crankshaft, like they were my own body. I winced with pain at every simulated fender bender, and my heartbeat went quick with every near-miss.
When I was driving home, it was much easier to drive well, and also to drive safely.
We all put on these big clay masks, with exaggerated faces of anguish, and acted out scenes of pride and foolishness on the road, narrated by the thick-soled Chorus who worked at the school. We all wept terribly with the pain and sorrow of it, but we all felt refreshed afterward.
Then in the last few scenes, we got new clay masks, with cars for faces instead, and we continued acting out scenes. I don't know if it was the power of theatrical suggestion, or magnets, or enchanted masks, or what, but my sense of proprioception changed. I could feel my wheels and gears and crankshaft, like they were my own body. I winced with pain at every simulated fender bender, and my heartbeat went quick with every near-miss.
When I was driving home, it was much easier to drive well, and also to drive safely.
