Speaking Of Crossing The Street

I live 16 miles from my workplace. Yes, it’s in a different state, and yes, I have to cross a major river to get there, but still….it’s 16 miles. On a regular, old, normal day, it takes me about one hour from the time I leave my house to the time I sit down at my desk. Regular, old, normal days are far and few between lately.

Take this day, for instance. Rush hour. Pouring rain. Roads flooded. I leave home at 7 am, and get to my desk at 10:15 am. TEN FIFTEEN.

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Seriously. Tides rolling on down the Boulevard. Lucky for me, I sit up high in my SUV, and I follow the kind policeman’s advice, and cut through the water to get to “the other side” of town. “Go nice and slow and you’ll be ok” he said. And I did, and now look where I am.

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Click here and here if you want to go through the water with me.

And, at the end of the water, there is a big billboard.

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Yea, ok.

And then there was yesterday….which still feels like today to me.

I wonder how the people who decide how many people can get on the bridge at one time came up with this plan. I can see them sitting around a big conference table and deciding to allow 13 lanes of toll booth traffic to go through at the same time and get on to 4 lanes of bridge space at 7:45 am on a weekday.

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I’m no engineer. I just play one in my mind. Maybe someday before I retire (rofl), I will get one of those jet packs that the Jetsons use and wave to everyone as I fly over on my way to work.

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