traffic
It started out simply enough, Linda and I were going to drive over to the Falls Church Farmer's Market this morning. The drive started easily enough, there was barely any traffic through Annandale and we even managed to avoid waiting the traditional 40 days and 40 nights at the traffic light at Route 50. I was starting to think that this would be one of those extraordinary D.C. moments when you actually get to a destination without hassle or need of a multi-generational space ark, (at least guaranteeing that your descendants might make landfall). But the gods are cruel, comrades. They love nothing more than to lull you into a false sense of security and bliss, only to spring their little cruelties when you are most vulnerable. Just as we entered Falls Church proper, almost within sight of our destination, the trap was sprung - all of Annandale Road was closed due to some gas leak/water main collapse/tsunami/leprosy outbreak/whatever. We had to turn around, hitting the dread light at Route 50 AGAIN, (we were NOT lucky this time), and cross up to the feared Seven Corners - DURING A SATURDAY! I've written about the sheer Hell that this is before, and will not do so again. The memories are too painful, the emotional scars still raw; and besides, there might be children reading this.
We finally got past that Maze of Death, and were able to reenter Falls Church. Of course, the township's polizei watch Route 7 like hawks - keeping everyone within their insane speed limit. The citizenry there believes that man was not meant to travel faster than Continental Drift, lest one fall off the back of the Great Turtle that supports our earth. So, we spent several centuries crawling the last mile and a half, and finally, I am overjoyed to say, made it to the Market.
The trip back was equally challenging, as the late hour guaranteed an exponential increase in the traffic. But we made it back using tactics finely honed from watching Vanishing Point and Bullitt. I'm not proud of some of the things I did, and the nightmares still haunt me, but we got home, and that's all that matters.
I only bring up this little drama to lament the changes in our area. I used to actually enjoy driving around here. One could generally plan a trip from Point A to Point B and feel reasonably sure as to how long it would take to do it. Those days are long gone. To travel around here now, one must calculate the time it would take in a normal universe and then quintuple it. And you can't just climb into your car and drive, you must have the radio tuned to the traffic reports at all times, listening to every delay and hiccup within 50 miles, for each one can cause a backup stretching across the whole region. You'll need a map to locate detours and backroads to avoid each problem as well as 6 months of food and water. When we go out, Linda is stooped over the radio with a map, listening to each warning and constantly plotting our countermoves - it's like a scene out of a World War II submarine movie, with the captain and sonar engineer hovering around the screen looking for a way around the sub nets and destroyers.
It will only get worse, of course. the feds have already decided that too many Defense Department offices were close to Metro stops, and they will now be moved into the suburbs, forcing millions to schlep across Fairfax in their cars, creating a transportation sclerosis that will simply cause the entire mess to grind to a total halt. The pitiful thing is that someday I'll be looking back on today's disaster, and thinking that THESE were the good times. We are doomed.
We finally got past that Maze of Death, and were able to reenter Falls Church. Of course, the township's polizei watch Route 7 like hawks - keeping everyone within their insane speed limit. The citizenry there believes that man was not meant to travel faster than Continental Drift, lest one fall off the back of the Great Turtle that supports our earth. So, we spent several centuries crawling the last mile and a half, and finally, I am overjoyed to say, made it to the Market.
The trip back was equally challenging, as the late hour guaranteed an exponential increase in the traffic. But we made it back using tactics finely honed from watching Vanishing Point and Bullitt. I'm not proud of some of the things I did, and the nightmares still haunt me, but we got home, and that's all that matters.
I only bring up this little drama to lament the changes in our area. I used to actually enjoy driving around here. One could generally plan a trip from Point A to Point B and feel reasonably sure as to how long it would take to do it. Those days are long gone. To travel around here now, one must calculate the time it would take in a normal universe and then quintuple it. And you can't just climb into your car and drive, you must have the radio tuned to the traffic reports at all times, listening to every delay and hiccup within 50 miles, for each one can cause a backup stretching across the whole region. You'll need a map to locate detours and backroads to avoid each problem as well as 6 months of food and water. When we go out, Linda is stooped over the radio with a map, listening to each warning and constantly plotting our countermoves - it's like a scene out of a World War II submarine movie, with the captain and sonar engineer hovering around the screen looking for a way around the sub nets and destroyers.
It will only get worse, of course. the feds have already decided that too many Defense Department offices were close to Metro stops, and they will now be moved into the suburbs, forcing millions to schlep across Fairfax in their cars, creating a transportation sclerosis that will simply cause the entire mess to grind to a total halt. The pitiful thing is that someday I'll be looking back on today's disaster, and thinking that THESE were the good times. We are doomed.
posted by mendip at
10:54 AM
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