Bottleneck, When Will You Ease Up?

405 - Pit of Hell. This is what I do in traffic. Take photos.

My boyfriend doesn’t understand traffic. Why should he? He’s from London, where mass transit is the norm and readily available to any Londoner at will. In London, there are buses at every stop, taxis at every corner and a metro with comfortable seating. What more can you ask for? Unlike Los Angeles, London is not a particularly spread out city. You can probably travel across it in less than an hour. L.A on the other hand is a vast land of freeway, suburb and city. I’ve said this before, but I don’t understand how anyone can travel to this city for vacation. How do you figure out where to go? And most importantly, how do you manage to get there? You can drive here, but what if you’re coming from Sweden? You can rent a car, but how would you even figure out our convoluted freeway system? 10 east, 5 south, 405 north, como what? I’ve lived in this city practically all my life and even I can’t figure it out completely (although if I needed to, I could find my way home using surface streets - this is what driving across town does to you)

This morning I thought I’d try something new by waking up extremely early to try and beat traffic. I got on the freeway at 6:50 a.m. In a normal city, this would mean that there would be a NORMAL amount of cars on the road. In Los Angeles, it means getting to work at 8:10 a.m.

No matter what I do, it doesn’t go away. It exists to make my life hell, even before I get to my cube. Tomorrow, I might try 6:30 a.m., although seeing as to it’s a Friday, I don’t know if it will be an accurate experiment.

The Los Angeles freeway system was my lady all Summer long. Now that school has started, it is a complete mess on the concrete jungle. This won’t ease up, I’m suspecting, until after Christmas. How lovely!

It was a bit difficult waking up this morning. Even Henry didn’t want to budge. He stayed in bed until even after I came back to my room after a shower. However, once he saw me put pants on, he went wild, gnawing at my feet, hopping arond like a miniature gazelle. That’s his cue, he knows that when the pants come on, we exist the room, make our way to the kitchen, where he’ll sniff around and either run to the living room to bark at INVISIBLENESS outside or trot to my parents’ bedroom to steal some socks for his morning breakfast. I can just foresee how hard the coming months will be to wake up - even harder than it is now that the days are getting shorter, and it’s pretty dark when I get home. Ugh.