Gridlock

I would go absolutely, freaking insane if I had to live in a big city. I mean pull all of your hair out, screaming at the top of your lungs, drooling like a painted savage, type of insane. Crime, poverty, incessant humanity, and, worst of all, the traffic! Every square foot of roadway is a congested, engorged parking lot from early morning to well past dinner time. How anyone can stand the graffitti-covered, trash-strewn, scum-encrusted, car-honking, jay-walking, non-stop construction, decaying tenament, jack-hammering, peace-devoid megalopolitan lifestyle is beyond me. In fact, just thinking about trying to exist in such a setting causes the bile to rise up in my throat and gives me the cold-sweat queasies.

Recently I spent a day in Washington D.C. on business. If you think that I could risk glancing to my right to see the Washington Monument or to my left to see the Capitol building, you surely do not understand the sheer white-knuckled terror of a suburbanite trying to make their way through rush hour, bumper-to-bumper gridlock. Just using your turn signal is enough to precipitate a spontaneous beat down from your fellow motorists. Oh the lingering nightmares ... I can still feel my car closing in around me as the buzzards of the city incessantly removed my flesh inch by inch.

I actually live in an area that is listed among the top 40 population centers in the U.S. and we have our share of traffic and stop-and-go congestion. However, the days are rare when it takes me longer than 15 minutes to drive the 5 miles from my house to where I work. Most of the delays are caused by the fact that my area sprinkles traffic lights about like a seed-sowing farmer. I walk like Fred G. Sanford, and it seems like sometimes I could reduce my commute times by just hoofing it. However, a urine-stained pair of pants is a small price to pay to gain some perspective and appreciation of the area where I live. If I think I have it tough, I just need to think of how bad it could be.