No, you cannot pop wheelies on the L.I.E.

Happy Memorial Day everyone!  I imagine your weekend involved some sort of travel; if it did not, count yourself amongst the lucky ones.  I'm not quite aware how fate figures it out, but surely a shuttle company, 3 airports, all taxi drivers, and a hotel clerk cannot be in cahoots to make my life more difficult.  After taking every mode of transportation to get back to Manhattan today except boat and horse, I was welcomed by a ban of night riders with minimal regard for the flow of traffic or life in general.

My trip home post-two delayed flights included being squashed in the back seat of a shuttle van with 12 fellow travelers, an erratic driver jamming to Taio Cruz, no shock absorbers and about 3,124 potholes.  As we came off of an exit ramp on to the Long Island Expressway we were greeted by four motorcyclists who apparently thought using the highway as their personal practice field/possible funeral at 6:30 pm on a holiday was a grand idea.  Our driver was attempting to be cautious, though I could tell his NY driving skills were telling him otherwise.  As we finally make it on to the L.I.E. the group of motorcyclists end up directly in front of the van where practice was set to begin.  One popped a wheelie, receiving a gasp from some of the passengers, a 'Really...really?' from most.  As one leads, the others will follow and before you know it I felt like I was at the recital of the Evil Knievel Trick School, which unfortunately was not actually on my list of things to do this evening.  A few tips to the band of misguided riders:

1. The Long Island Expressway is not your playground; if you would like to practice your fancy moves please take to the New Jersey Turnpike.
2. Pissing a whole lot of people off in traffic does in no way, shape, or form make you look like a badass.  I would personally like to get home in one piece and also avoid seeing your body in multiple pieces, if possible.
3. If you must perform tricks in front of a wide audience you could at least be a little more creative and ride backwards with no hands or something.

Moral of the story is the actual traveling aspect of a holiday weekend is always zero fun, but if people could refrain from public annoyance just long enough for me to get to my destination it would be much appreciated.  Until, of course, I get dropped off in front of Penn Station and realize there is no avoiding public annoyance while walking past the cluster mess they call the taxi line.