Now, on with the show.
My commute this morning was like a gift that God Himself created special for me, wrapped up in a little package, and handed to me in my car. My normal commute takes about 45 minutes, give or take, in the morning and close to 60 minutes returning home in the evening. My commute to work this morning took 15 minutes. Unbelieveable. I almost cried.
This brought to mind a theory I’ve been working on that I thought I might share. Folks who know me have probably already heard this, but let me enlighten those who haven’t. I call it “The Theory of Indefinite Commute.” Let me explain.
If I leave really early in the morning, I can get to work pretty quickly (this happens on holidays, too, but we’ll consider those anomalies for the time being). The later I leave from my house, the longer the commute takes. In fact, it increases at a nearly exponential rate. Once a certain point in the morning is reached, the commute starts taking less time because, of course, rush hour is ending. What happens right in the middle of those two times? That’s where the theory comes in.
The Theory of Indefinite Commute: There is a time in the morning that, were I to leave and attempt to commute to work at that time, would result in me commuting to work indefinitely.
Here’s a graph that illustrates the principle:
Fig. 1: The Theory of Indefinite Commute, Illustrated
The time I leave my apartment is represented by the X axis; the time it takes me to get to work is represented by the Y axis. The blue lines indicate how the commute normally functions. The red line is what the theory revolves around. That’s the point that, were I to leave at that time, I would commute for time and all eternity.
I’m not sure what, exactly, I’ve discovered. It may be a hole in the time-space continuum that opens up at exactly that time, sort of like in Time Bandits. Who knows? At times I wonder if I would simply commute until I died or if I would actually commute eternally, immortal. Someday, maybe, I’ll attempt to locate exactly what time that is and try it… but I’m afraid of what might happen. Maybe it’s got something to do with the Bermuda Triangle. Maybe it’s got something to do with how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. I suppose, as Mr. Owl says, “The world may never know.”