Dead Slow

Life's certainly having it's ups and downs this month. One day comedy, next day tragedy. Today we found ourself at our first American funeral.
Like so many things I do here, it was just like being on TV or in a movie. The service prior to the internment was held in a funeral home. Chairs were lined up in long rows with a lecturn at the front for prayers and eulogies to be read. It was a scene I had seen in programmes like Will and Grace or Everybody Loves Raymond, and to be honest, I didn't realise it was something which actually happened in real life. In England I have only been to services in churches or draughty rooms at a cemetry.
It was another one of those moments which defines the difference between just visiting and living in a country. After the service we prepared to drive to the cemetry.
"All cars heading for the burial must line up to take part in the funeral procession," we were told. "You'll need a orange sticker for the windscreen, a flag for the window and remember to keep your hazard lights going."
I looked at Grumpy.
"This is a bit odd," I said. "I assumed we'd just drive on our own."
"It'll be interesting," Grumpy said. "Don't you remember reading about this in the rules of the road? It means we can go through red lights."
He seemed far too excited at the thought of this as we got into the car. It's not like he's never driven through a red light before. We waited for a dozen or so cars to line up and we set off. Thirty minutes later we were still driving.
"Well this is certainly different," Grumpy said. "In England the services are always at the cemetry."
The funeral courtage actually looked quite jolly, apart from the hearse in the front, of course. All the cars had bright orange flags waving gaily from their windows, lights blinking. The final car had two flags, and was driven by a representative of the funeral home.
"Er, we are in the right group?" I inquired after 45 minutes. "This is a really long way. Are we there yet?"
"Can't be much longer," said Grumpy. "But its amazing how many cemetries we've passed."
An hour had passed. The car was a little warm and I was feeling very stuffy thanks to the cold Grumpy has kindly given me. I decided to open the window a little. Aaahh. "What was that?"
"You've lost the flag," yelled Grumpy. "How are we going to get through the red lights now? Bet they won't even let us into the cemetry now!"
"We've still got the sticker," I whimpered. "I'm sorry, I never open the window. I just forgot. Atishoo."