trawling the gridy locks

Misery as far as the eye could see, break lights stretched out infinitely on highway 1. Straggled with other hapless dupes of the Friday crunch into Seoul from the lesser provinces, I settled in for a long nights crawl.
The mother sandwiched next to me made sure to lean over the youngster who wouldn't abdicate his throne, so that he might share in the tiniest plot in her dominion of suffering. If wishes were horses...
Somehow the bus lanes were no longer an option and the road ground to a maddening halt. So much for environmentally sound practices. Thus began my 2 hour Friday night commute into the capital city.
The air con would cut out, adding it's own sinister nausea to the proceedings. Suddenly the air would switch on momentarily, enough to prop us up for next straggled leg. Then it would turn off just as mysteriously, leaving us like bootless victims with a pocket of air in a downed ship. Empty buses would pass us and we'd look on longingly at those vacant seats. Minutes would tick off on the digital clock, as if tormenting the passengers in their mired state.
What made the whole occurrence fascinating was the discrepancy between Korea's supposed culture of deference towards age and hierarchy, which was clearing being violated left and right. Those seated turned a blind eye to those standing for the duration of our crawl. Women and the elderly were left in the aisles, whilst the youth ignored their decrepit sufferings. It would almost seem in these rare instances where the young can wield any power, they do so with passive vengeance and to great effect. Sorry Grandma, but you're going to have to take a number! :)