Friday, September 9, 2011

We're not in Portland anymore

A piece of Portland (or LA or Seattle or any such large confluence of people) plopped itself onto our freeway. Yep, a good old traffic jam. A full-on dead stop, 85 to 0 in a hurry, out of nowhere style jam. There are quite a few obstacles that we know how to confront: 30' wide implements, herds of sheep or cattle. But this here mass of cars was a new one to many.
Well, unlike Portland, none of us knew what to do at first. Do we go through the median to the other side? Do we cut through the ditch to the frontage road (which I very well may have done had there not been a pesky fence in the way), do we park and just walk the rest of the way? Should we call the Sheriff? Should we go get the horses? Cars were swerving in and out of lanes, trucks were switching lanes trying not to hit cars. Bumping a bumbling bunch of bumpkins out of our comfort zone can be dangerous!
So, getting us all stopped was interesting, but what followed would blow an urbanite's mind. I had to pinch myself myself. See, the reason we were all screeching to a halt was an upcoming construction zone where the left lane was closed. We were still a good 1/2 mile from the lane closure and things continued to back up behind us so that there was a SINGLE line of cars about a mile long in the right lane leading up to the lane closure. There were many a "No, please," and "After you," and "I insist," going on as people scrambled to get to the right lane as quickly as possible. We all oozed single file into the construction zone and crept along for miles. That's when I, and many others I'm sure, started looking for a good exit through the sagebrush.
Now, I ain't sayin' it's right or wrong. Just curious. Very curious.

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