Our Lady of Lost Traffic Safety Supplies

I found myself in a dark room, lit only by a few candles on the floor illuminating what looked like orange traffic barrels. A chant rose softly from the darkness. The lights on top of the barrels started blinking in unison as the voices closed in around me. Light filled the room as the flames from the candles soared a couple feet high. Men in dark robes and flip flops emerged behind the barrels. Rubber cone stalactites hung from the ceiling. Street signs wallpapered the windowless room, glittering in the candlelight. I turned in circles trying to figure out who these strange druids surrounding me were. They commanded me to stop in a single voice and drew back their hoods revealing cheap aviator sunglasses with reflective lenses and short crops of impeccably styled hair.