An Ode to Stoplights (sort of)

I am a fan of the eclectic in almost all forms of entertainment I choose: books, movies, TV. Especially TV. A guy-of-passing-acquaintance (who might have become a friend, but he made this faux pas among others) had the nerve the other day to mock one of my favorite havens of eclecticism: Gilmore Girls. "It's clever, I grant," he grated. "But there's just no charm in something so eclectic. There's no uniformity to it. It's just so random. How dare it be so random?"

In later discussions with a good friend, we have come to decide that much of its charm does, indeed, lie in its eclecticism. And, I added, that borderline feeling I always get when I'm watching something that's quirky and good. Good, quirky TV (and movies and books, for that matter) always feels a little bit surreal, but not quite so surreal that it's unbelievable: scenarios and places that make me feel that, though they probably wouldn't happen, they most certainly could.

Take, for instance, the stoplight in Stars Hollow. It's one of my favorite quirks, located just a couple blocks away from Luke's (although it seems farther away after an all-night dance marathon, as well it should). Anyway, it has detailed, step-by-step instructions about how to push the button and wait for the hand to change to a white walking figure and how to cross the street. It has always cracked me up. Seemed quite ridiculous, really. And like a very charming, surrealistic quirk.

But it's real. Those instructions exist! They are on the posts I wait by to cross the street every day after work to get to my bus stop to catch the 63 back to the lovely land of Centerville. In Bountiful, Utah! There are posts with those directions. Proof that life is full of quirks, after all. And that even though I have to resort to subterfuge to watch the Gilmores in my parents' house (my mom believes that Lorelai and Rory teach me all the wrong ideas about male/female relationships and has locked them from the cable, despite believing I'm a more or less mature 23-year-old . . . she still needs some control, I guess), I can still have a small taste of Stars Hollow in the middle of my own mundane life. How about that?