At the end of a trying week of elementary school, us kids deserved a release, an exclamation point crossing the threshold from learning minds to wacky-weekend-warriors. After years of observation and experimentation, our beautiful brains learned that we could clip in seatbelts from across the aisle to create a makeshift swing. Parlay that with ‘the bump’ on East Genesee Street and a well-timed push, we would send ourselves flying up above the seats, limbs flailing and gravity’s cruel drag back to the dirty floor. As you can imagine, it was horribly dangerous and strictly banned with the exception of Friday afternoons when the driver would turn a blind eye. Each successful launch was paired with a common cheer and communal satisfaction that officially marked the weekend.
Why share such a stupid story? 1) Writer’s block; 2) There is something special and sacred around Friday afternoon rituals; I’m sure you all have great ones to share. I remember taking the Kingston/Greenbush commuter rail on a Friday afternoon leaving from Boston’s South Station circa 2019. I swear there was a collective bottle/can crack as soon as the train started moving from people of all walks of life. Seemingly strangers wondered up and down the aisles to chat and tell jokes for no reason other than the ‘Friday spirit.’ It’s taken me awhile to find something comparable to this in Los Angeles for a litany of reasons, but alas, it has recently been discovered!
As much as you’ve heard about the notorious LA traffic, I promise you it’s even worse. I find myself in the thick of it as I travel northbound up the 405 freeway on Friday afternoons. As I blow through my quotas of ‘endearing terms’ and hand gestures on the road, I finally reach a landmark of tranquility and a healthy dose of ‘Friday spirit’: the 405 & 5 freeway tunnel split. Here you will find that an unwritten rule governs all and participation is mandatory; all you need is a firm hand and an operating horn.
As soon as you approach the tunnel, you’re free to let the horn rip down the echo chamber, spanning 4-lanes wide. Some choose to hold down their horns the entire length of the tunnel (which often takes several minutes), some honk to the melody of the song they’re listening to, some make up their own songs, some do the repeated beep. 18-wheelers, commercial vehicles, minivans, motorcycles, supercars and clunkers alike, you name it – everyone seems to participate with extreme enjoyment. It may sound stupid, and that’s because it is, but damn is it satisfying and something only done on Friday afternoons.
