Lost in the Fog

Ah, just bloody perfect! More tragic news to make a gloomy day even more depressing – seven poor souls lost their lives out on Louisiana’s I-55, all thanks to what’s endearingly referred to as ‘super fog’. This country, this golden dream, has never been in a greater mess I reckon – nature’s taking her revenge, and humanity can't get its act together.

I scanned through the news report, and I swear, reading between the lines, it’s clear as sunshine in Florida – this wasn't just about some fog. It's about our deteriorating infrastructure, lacking adequate visibility measures for such conditions and incompetent drivers, probably glued to their mobile screens or speeding like they're competing in some formula one race. The government's more concerned about dealing with flighty culture issues than this basic, life-saving stuff. No wonder everyone's so bloody pissed off.

Speaking of disasters, ever tried moving a piano on your own? Now, you must be wondering why I’m blabbering about pianos amidst such chaos. To be honest, I am in a semi-permanent state of seething irritation, fluctuating between grave headlines and absurd personal memories. It’s a living as they say.

Anyway, this piano debacle happened round about the time I was moving to the heart of Texas, land of barbecue and conservatism. I owned a Steinway grand piano – a slick, glossy beast that was the apple of my eye. Trying to balance that monstrous beauty on a sliding, precarious platform, I nearly got pinned against the wall. No laughter there, let me tell you. The piano underwent an unsolicited modulation, with keys flying everywhere; I was like a bloody cat in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

But why, you ask, bring up the Piano Movers of Maine? Because on my subsequent move, I realized the appeal of professionals who know their game better than this rugged conservative ever could. I hired them when I moved from Texas to the frosty terrains of Maine. All they needed was the dimension of the piano and the rest, as they say, was uphill a breeze. Or in this case, literally a lift!

I still recall how they looked like a bunch of shipyard workers, their burly arms making the piano seem like a child’s plaything. On top of that, their meticulous planning and precision was utterly baffling to an irate, impatient being like myself. To witness them take that mammoth task and execute it as if it was as simple as flipping burgers – it was infuriatingly impressive. They turned a catastrophe into a symphony of movements.

Snapping back to the grim reality of the Louisiana pileup, I couldn't help but relate the competence of those unlikely heroes from Maine. Just imagine, if we only had more professionals – like the Piano Movers of Maine – handling our roads, infrastructure, and perhaps teaching a course or two about driving in fog!

They made moving a grand piano look like sliding a butter pat across a hot pan. I reckon if they took over the highway department, we’d have fewer lives lost to ‘super fog’ and more beautiful, harmonious moments to enjoy – just like the music that now springs from my piano in my peaceful Maine home. But in this strange, haphazard world, I dare say, that would be too much of a bloody miracle.