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LAist Rants: All roads lead to traffic

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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!

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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.