Feeling: silly
Listening to: Kate Callahan - The Greatest of Ease
Reading/Watching: studying for finals

I have discovered that halfway between Hometown and Schoolville is mile #666 on the interstate.

You know how they mark off the miles on highways so that they can number the exits? I realized that the Devil's Mile is almost exactly at the midpoint of the drive I make a dozen times a year to visit my parents, and it started an obsession with watching the green mile marker go by, so I could giggle at the '666' and think, "I'm driving through Hell right now."

Then somehow, I always manage to miss it. Every time, I'll be kindasorta paying attention to the mile markers, and then I change the CD or check my odometer or get caught up with a moron who's determined to go 60 in the left lane, and suddenly it's mile 668 and I've passed it.

This time, I got stubborn. I counted down a good ten miles in advance: 657, 658, 659... finally the moment of anticipation reached its peak as I drove past 665...

And then there was an exit ramp and an overpass, and mile #667. I shrugged, said "weird", and figured maybe the post had been knocked over on this side.

Driving back again two days later, I watched the numbers descend, waiting for the Devil's Mile, and was shocked to find that the numbers counted down 668, 667... 665.

There is no Mile 666. And for some reason, this cracks me up. Either pseudo-goth kids were stealing the evil mile-marker too often to make it worth replacing (because I tell you, the idea was tempting even to me), or else there's a little old lady in the Department of Public Services somewhere in Flatonia, insisting that Satan's favorite set of identical digits not be allowed to parade its subversive numerical values in front of the eyes of innocent God-fearing motorists and their poor, defenseless children.

In my head, the little old lady kinda talks like Dana Carvey's Church Lady, from back when Saturday Night Live was funny.

Wish me luck: my big scary philosophy final is tomorrow.

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