Red light district

Years ago, my friend Adam Pfahler gave me this advise: "Take the 101 home, you won't regret it." I ignored him and took the 5 from San Francisco to L.A., only to be denied at the Grapevine due to snow. After sitting in the car for hours, turning back, taking another route, and skidding around in snow, we wound up going to some gross motel before waiting in line again to cross over into L.A.



Sunday's drive from Oakland wasn't quite so bad. First, cars stopped. Then drivers turned off their engines. Finally, people stepped out and climbed hills on either side of the road to see what the heck was going on. A pick-up truck had rolled and its trailer (for dune buggies or something) landed exactly perpindicular to the flow of traffic. We were a couple hundred feet behind the mess.



Being stuck brought out the best and worst of humanity. Some people started chatting, discussed the situation, and offered water to old folks. Others cursed the world and tried driving on the shoulders only to add to the gridlock. It probably didn't help that we were downwind of a cattle yard. At least carnivores wouldn't have to resort to Donner Party tactics.

After an hour or so, the carnage was pulled to the side of the road. We were back in our own little worlds, on our way to our individual destinations.