This is cross posted in comments at Oyster's site--his question re: salaries and corrupt officials was actually an aside--his post concerned both a Baton Rouge
In comments, Michael of Musing's Musings asked if BR traffic was really that bad--he offered Chicago traffic hell as a comparison...
Short answer: yeah, it IS that bad, particularly since Red Stick is, well, only a "city" by the most generous of definitions. Yet, traffic on the highways and main arteries slows to a CRAWL at least twice a day--and more often when you have a meeting of idiots or a clash of metal...which happens more or less daily.
Anyway, I digress. The comments re: Chicago got me thinking of a time some ten/twelve years ago when I lived in the upper Midwest (Madison) and used to visit with my dad when he flew into ChiTown more or less annually. He worked as company pilot for the folks who make Louisiana Hot Sauce and his bosses would go to a big food convention at McCormick Center.
One year, taking him back to Midway Airport, we were stuck in traffic on the Stevenson (I think). While waiting, someone in the car to the left of us leaned out the window and said, "Hey, where's the hot sauce?!" He'd seen my LA license plate--then he and the driver laughed and drove on.
While I kept my eye out, my dad fished into his bag, where he actually had a couple of bottles. Eventually our lane began to move, and when we passed the car in question (I remember it being a dark red, 70's era Monte Carlo), I leaned out, announced "Here it is," and tossed both bottles over to a VERY surprised person in the passenger seat. Dad leaned over and said he worked for the company. I can't say I've NEVER seen someone that surprised--the guy said something about just making a joke, then he thanked us--but it'd certainly be on a top five list.
Years later, my father mentioned to me that his boss now tells this story, with one exception--he (the boss) is now in the car with us. Dad unfortunately passed away recently, but I'll note for the record that no, his boss WASN'T there.
But, this IS a true story. Every once in a while, I wonder if the folks in Chicago ever remember or tell it to others.
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