Traffic theatre

To get from my house to the company I'm doing my internship, I can take two routes. One goes through the middle of the city centre, has very few traffic lights, and is generally quicker, unless it is a market day or there are lots of drunk post-party students hanging about. The second is through a more open patch, going round the city centre, with lots of traffic lights and streams of busy commuters trying to push past me on their bikes.
Sounds like the first route is preferable, and in many ways, it is. But for the past two weeks, I've been taking the other, slower route. The main reason: broken traffic lights.
There is one main junction in Groningen that has been under construction for about 5 years now. A new underground parking lot has been built, put on hold when the digging made the homes in the neighbourhood slide and crack, continued, and finished, with a huge new office put on the top and new roads put around it. It's been chaos and mess and diversions for 5 years now, but finally, the thing is almost finished. On Monday last week, the new traffic lights were installed. These immediately malfunctioned, unable to cope with the busy morning rush, causing long delays and traffic jams. While the problem is being sorted out, traffic marshals have been put in place of the lights.
This provides me with free comedy every morning. There are two of them, standing in the middle of the junction with their whistles and there red lights and their high-visibility jackets. I admire their bravery in stepping in front of an oncoming stream of cars, forcing them to brake and wait. Sometimes cars try to slip past them, but they are always kept in check by an angry whistle and waving of arms. This leads to many smiles and knowing nods amongst the cyclist ready to move. I also love how they apparently arbitrarily decide who gets to go and who doesn't. But their system is so much better than the traffic lights, because they can actually see which line is longest or that there is a traffic jam up ahead so they should keep traffic in that lane back, etc.
But the best moment is when they pull the whistles out of their mouths and shout together: "Cyclists! Pedestrians!" (these generally don't get to cross together, but in the early morning rush hour time is of the essence, and the traffic wardens just mix them together). On a good day, they also make a cycle movement with their hands above their heads, as if we can't remember what we're supposed to do. But most people start cycling as soon as the wardens reach for the whistle in their mouths.
There are always a few car drivers brave (or stupid) enough to try and slip in between the cyclists and pedestrians, but they never make it. The waves of bikes and 'freight' bikes (used to transport small children to and from school) are just too thick. In a couple of seconds, every biker is on the other side of the road, cleverly avoiding the traffic wardens and other cyclists in the process. And then the whole thing starts over again, with cars in short lines having to wait quite a while for the busier parts to clear. But as a cyclist, you're always one of a huge pack, one that floods the junction for a couple of seconds and then separates and disappears. It's one of the perks of being an early morning bike commuter, and I will be sad when the traffic lights are fixed and I won't have my free mime break anymore.