LAist Rants: All roads lead to traffic

LAist Rants are strictly the opinions of the author in question. They are even in first person! We keep them on Sundays because even the hive mind needs a rest.

I used to spend my weekdays in gray-carpeted offices, wondering how I could get out of work in time to beat everyone else to Ralph's, say, or get through Glendale during Christmas season without battling Galleria traffic. I imagined driving up to LAX without an extra hour for parking and shuttle, freakishly wondered about cutting a back door into Ikea so I could be first in line in front of the weekend crowds. These are, perhaps, small dreams, but they were mine.

And now I stumble across spare time. Daytime time. Weekday time. The city lies vacant! Lines evaporated! Freedom!

But it is not to be. Try to get to the Burbank Fry's at 3:30 on a Monday afternoon and what do you see? Brake lights. You'll be going so slowly that you can root out your digitial camera and take a picture. Try to head anywhere and it's all the same: the 134 -- jammed. The 5? A snarl. The 405? Fugghetaboutit. A drive home on surface streets was my reward.

I can't quite let go, though, of the vision of one day pulling into a Trader Joe's parking lot without vituperative looks, aggro honking and beemers poised for space stealing. Maybe morning. Maybe next Monday. I can dream.