You People Drive Like Crap!

April 22, 1997

It was right out of a movie. As the blue lights flashed behind me - for the first time in my four plus years of driving - the ad came on Real Radio 104.1: "Got a ticket? Come to the Improv Comedy Traffic School!"

I crossed my fingers real hard, hoping I wouldn't have to take the ad up on its offer.

No such luck. So, after getting my ticket, I called the Improv Comedy Traffic School and made a reservation. I was offered choice of location, date and time; they even asked if I wanted to attend a "singles" Friday night version. The cost is $40, and with the coupon they'll fax to you, or with a copy of their yellow pages ad, it's only $35: quite competitive with the "regular" schools around.

I arrived about a half hour before our Saturday 9 a.m. - 1 p.m. class, and I'm glad I did: about half of the participants had already arrived. The rest of the 60 attendees showed up shortly after.

Susan Cummings, our comedienne/instructor, walked into the room sipping coffee and began our four-hour excursion into driver education by observing, "You people drive like crap!"

The course began with person-to-person introductions. We stood up and shook hands with our fellow bad - or unlucky - drivers, introducing ourselves with our first names and the dollar amount of our tickets. Then, one by one, we, with Susan's comedic help, introduced ourselves to the group, therapy style:

Me: "Hi, I'm Andy."
Group: "Hi, Andy."
Susan: "And what was your ticket for?"
Me: "I, uh, paused at a stop sign."

The next four hours continued in the same way: constant humor combined with the facts, figures, and high-school level driver education fodder.

The comedy certainly was improvisation: Susan threw back hilarious retorts faster than people zip through downtown Orlando. It was funnier than Letterman. The only negative aspect was that, being in a comedy traffic school, some there thought they were supposed to be funny too. They weren't.

Most surprising of all was the fact that I actually retained the information. I remember how many points I'll get on my license if I pass a stopped school bus (four) and how much the average first-time DUI will cost ($7-10 thousand). Four hours of doing anything usually leaves most people stone-faced and blurry-eyed, so I was impressed by my retention of facts - it was certainly due to the presentation format.

In the last hour, after discussing defensive driving, everyone got four free passes to the SAK Comedy Theatre in downtown Orlando. Then we graduated, to a tape of pomp and circumstance.

And then all 60 of us got back into our cars and hit the roads. And, just like the 3/4 of the class who had been to traffic school before probably thought, we had learned our lesson.

Andy Dehnart
I spend much of my time deconstructing my surroundings by writing. Other diversions: crossing the line, sucking down caffeine-laced carbonated beverages, pen fighting with the staff of the paper I edit, listening intensely to SHE 100.3, and analyzing my world with an overuse of superlatives. Also find me here.