1. The Federal Highway System. The popular, athletic guys that were good at sports and usually on homecoming or prom king things. Not really smart or nice in any way, but they didn't mean any harm and they went to college (a better one than you) on an athletic scholarship.
2. The Toll Road/Bridge. The people that pretend to be your friend and steal your stuff when you aren't around or are only your friend because they want something of yours - like watching late night Cinemax soft-core or to be driven around in your car or to plug their emotional holes because they don't think they are loved enough.
3. The Express Lanes. Complex? Perhaps. But also full of conflicting ideas about how it should be perceived (express lanes are extra lanes built in between normal lanes that switch directions to provide more capacity at the needed time - south in the morning, north in the afternoon). Either:
a. The Skank With Self Esteem Issues. Slept with a lot of the senior guys her sophomore and junior years, then her senior year it was mostly the guys with fast cars or ones who could buy beer. Always rumors about her being pregnant or not showering often enough
b. The Quiet, Helpful, Modest Overachiever. Bent over backwards to help people and was softly abused because of it. She could've had a job at an I-bank after college, but instead tried to save the world.
4. The Ferry System. Popular, cliquey rich kids that had fabulous parties when their parents went to Mazatlan that you never went to.
5. The Bridge. Accessible, nicer rich kids that didn't have parties but signed your yearbook. You had a crush on one of them.
6. The State Highways. Auto shop guys.
7. The HOV Lanes. The guy who was always kind of smart in high school and went to college with ambitions of being a software engineer, but developed a drinking problem and became an English lit major. Now he likes aquariums and ferrets.
8. The Local Roads. The goth kids who had their own group and bought a bottle of absinthe off the internet and one of them got really sick from it.
