Sunday, August 21, 2011

Monday Musings: Traffic trouble.

My husband and I don't often get a date night. We had dinner, visited an aunt, attended the temple, and it was very late when we started the hour drive home. There was horrendous traffic and we wanted to get out of it and back to our little town as soon as possible. We took the beltway, and found ourselves in a parking lot almost immediately.

Me: "Aw, man. Sorry about that, I thought this would be better."

Him: "Don't apologize, I was thinking the same thing."

I think it took 30 minutes to get through one mile to the nearest off-ramp. We discovered that the reason for the jam was that the construction crews had gradually restricted a five lane freeway down to ONE LANE. There were at least two empty lanes between us and their machines. ???

In the mean time, our kids kept calling our cell phones...

"Where are you? When are you going to be home?"

"We're stuck in traffic. We're coming home as fast as we can. Lock the doors and go to bed."

When we finally got out of the bottleneck, we raced to the next available route home. You know how some on ramps are very gradual, with a long exit lane? Well this wasn't one of them. The signs didn't appear until we were practically right on it and we just about missed it. AND it was one of those "cloverleaf" ones where if you're going any faster than 30 mph, you feel one side of the car lift off the tires. Once we recovered from the initial shock, we saw a sign...

Sharp Curves.
Slow Down.

Wait a minute, why wasn't that sign at the TOP of the ramp so we could slow down BEFORE hitting the curve? Why tell us after the fact? If we only knew...

UDOT slave #1: "Hey boss, doesn't this sign go up there?"

UDOT slave #2: "I've put up over fifty signs today! It's almost quitting time, I'm done. We put it here. There's still 180 degrees left to drive through."

UDOT slave #1: "But boss..."

UDOT slave #2: "No nothing! It's broiling and I got a cold one in the fridge waiting for me. Put 'er there!"

UDOT slave #1: "Alright, alright. Sheesh."

Twenty years ago, coming home late from a date meant icy stares from parents. That night there was a nine year old standing in the living room with a stern glare.

Sleepy nine year old: "You're really late. Where were you?"

Us: "We told you guys on the phone. We hit a traffic jam."

Sleepy nine year old: "Well, it's late."

Us: "Yeah, okay. Go to bed."

All I know is, I now have permission to stay up when my kids go out late - THEY DID IT FIRST!


Pam said...

HA! what goes around comes around! LOL

Lourie said...

My kids do the same thing. First it is texts, then it is calls.