Published: 2025-09-11

London Avenue intersection was crowded as usual, it was after 5:00 PM after all, the rush hour. In the sky, the summer sun still sat high, as if refusing to meet with the western horizon; back on the ground, Luigi tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of his Nissan Sentra. The smell of fresh smog inundated the insides of his sedan; the air conditioner didn’t work, thus Luigi rode with all his windows open. “There’s only commercials on the radio these days.” Thought Luigi as he heard about the hottest drug for erectile dysfunction. The car in front moved two meters; Luigi gently stepped on the pedal. Ten more kilometers and he would be home. He was in no rush to get home; nothing but a cup of dry noodles waited for him, although the thought of finally taking off the pit-stained light-blue shirt was appealing to him. The car in front moved one meter; Luigi stepped on the pedal.

“This isn’t so bad,” thought Luigi, “I got a good job as a sales representative, — he was a door-to-door toilet paper salesman — the pay is good, — the pay was not good — I got a nice car — it was an old, piece of junk, and he was three payments late. Life is good.”

A honk from behind interrupted his inner monologue; the car in front had moved two more meters. Another commercial came on the radio. There was almost $2,000,000 in the lottery. “What kind of idiot trusts his life to the lottery? People just don’t want to work anymore.”

The sunlight ruthlessly hit the metal roofs; the asphalt sizzled like bacon on a hot pan. The heat haze seemed to distort reality itself. There was no summer love in a traffic jam. Only sweat, horns, and swearing.

“This cannot be an ordinary traffic jam. I drive through this same avenue every single day, and it’s never this bad.”

Luigi didn’t know it, but his supposition was right: a truck had gone off the road a couple of kilometers ahead and caused a massive traffic jam. He was trapped.

Suddenly, it would seem as if everybody started honking and shouting, swearing and banging the sides of their cars. Something was happening a couple of cars ahead of Luigi’s. “What is it now? Can’t people keep it quiet? They’re making things more unbearable than they already were.” He thought. The drivers, trapped in their rolling prison cells, became more and more hostile every minute, and Luigi still didn’t know why. He took off the seat belt and got out of the car.

“What are you doing, moron? Get back in the car!” Shouted someone behind him.

“You can’t say this city doesn’t have nice people.” Luigi thought.

He made his way through the commotion, passing through expletives and horn sounds. He wanted, he needed, to know what was happening that made everyone so irritable, so crass, so mad! And that’s when he saw it. Under the hot sun, a man. A man dancing. A dancing man! Luigi looked around as if expecting to see hidden cameras. “What is this? America’s funniest videos? It’s gotta be.” He thought. The man continued his dancing, clumsy, uncoordinated, as if he had never danced before. Luigi hesitantly approached him and tapped his shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir, may I ask you what you are doing?” He asked. “What do you think he’s doing? He’s fucking dancing. In the middle of the road.” Shouted one of the trapped drivers.

The dancing man, however, did not offer any answer.

“Sir? Sir, I think you should get back to your car so we can all get to our destination.” Luigi said. “Sir?” “He’s a fruitcake! He ain’t gonna listen to you, pal.” Shouted another driver, perhaps the same one as before.

Luigi turned back and walked towards his car, peeking over his shoulder to see if the man kept dancing. He sat in the car and put on the seat belt. “What is going on here?” He thought. A new vaginal soap with fresh mint aroma was being advertised on the radio. Luigi honked his horn in frustration. “I have to get out of here.” He thought. Luigi opened the globe compartment and took his cellphone out. He unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. He put a hand over his eyes and looked towards the horizon. A crowd was starting to form near the dancing man. Luigi ran.

He pushed through the multitude. A man menacingly shouted at the dancing man. “Listen, funny guy, I've had enough of your bullshit. Now you better get in your car and get the hell away from here or I am gonna break your legs.” The dancing man said nothing and kept dancing. The man pulled his fist back, as if preparing to strike him. Luigi jumped in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, partner, what are you doing? This man is clearly mentally ill. You cannot hit him.” “Get the fuck out of my way, you idiot. Don’t you see his stupid dancing is holding us here?” “Relax, man. I have my cellphone here, you see? I’m gonna call 911, and the police are going to come and get it, OK? No need to do anything rash.”

The man became less hostile after hearing Luigi’s plan.

Luigi stepped away to make the call. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” Said the operator. Luigi told her about the traffic jam and asked them to send the police to take the man away. “Understood, sir. There’s a traffic accident a couple of kilometers from where you are located; we’ll send a unit as soon as possible.” The operator said. Luigi walked back towards the crowd to tell them help was on its way, and once again, he got startled by what he saw. It was the violent man, he was now dancing next to the dancing man, and not only him, more and more people from the crowd started to join them until everybody was dancing.

Luigi started shouting, “What are you doing? What are you doing? What’s happening here?” But he got no answer from any of them. He looked down and realized he was tapping his foot, and soon after, his hips started moving on their own. “Help us, God.” He said. And that’s the last thing he remembered.

THE END.