What’s a Ray Mac?

One of the more interesting things I’ve seen in my trek to work from my apartment (Which I’m probably only going to walk a couple days a week, at least at first–apparently my ankles didn’t really like going from almost no walking to suddenly walking two miles a day two days in a row) is actually a piece of graffiti. If indeed it can be called that. The reason it’s interesting is mainly because I’m trying to visualize in my head the sort of conversation that took place for the object of the graffiti to actually see it. The piece reads “I LUV RAY MAC”, but what’s truly fascinating about it is its location–it’s on the ground, by a place where a u-turn can be made (But only by authorized vehicles–this is Connecticut, after all) on I-691 West, right by Exit 2. Really, it’s only visible from the overpass that I walk on on my way to work. So in order for this proclamation of love (Or “luv” more accurately) to be seen, the perpetrator first had to actually spray paint the ground with the letters, then somehow lure Ray Mac to the overpass where it could be seen, and finally essentially admit to committing..I don’t know what the technical name is. Vandalism of an Interstate maybe? I dunno.

I just found it sort of amusing, and tried (And failed, thanks to the sun plus the fence constructed to prevent people like me from falling off the overpass to severe injury or worse) to get a picture of the street art in question. I wonder if whoever took the time to craft it still luvs Ray Mac or not…

1 comment

    • James on June 13, 2008 at 11:53 am

    Wasn’t the guy who started McDonald’s Ray Kroc? Maybe the person got confused and declared their love for greasy, nutrition-free fast food by “misremembering” (as Roger Clemens would say) the dude’s name.

    Also: I guess you can’t quite stick it to the aforementioned people in your previous post who drive their cars to work :)

    You make a good point though, there is some weird graffiti out there. Some of it makes sense: tags, expressive snippets, vulgarity for the sake of vulgarity. But some is a bit more odd. In the building across from me, someone scaled a roof and wrote in shaky writing “A turtle, a toad” which seems to me like a drug code or a poem that the author got too frightened to finish.

    Nothing however, beats the famous Massachusetts turnpike restroom graffiti I saw above the paper toliet seat covers: FREE AUTHENTIC MASSACHUSETTS PILGRIM HATS!

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