The phone woke me at 11:30. A lady at a downtown hotel
was suffering an allergic reaction. This was not bad news; downtown is not too
far, I charge extra for calls that get me out of bed, freeway traffic is light,
and I can sleep late. I wrote down the information and dressed.
Traffic was minimal, but as I approached the freeway
interchange leading to downtown, a line of traffic cones forced me to the
outside lane. The ramp heading north was closed. The highway department
schedules inconvenient maintenance for the wee hours, and I occasionally
encounter these obstructions. No problem, I thought. I continued on to the next
exit and re-entered the freeway to retrace my route. Cones appeared, so the
other north ramp was also blocked. By the time I learned this, I was forced
onto the freeway heading south. Again I left at the first exit only to discover
no on-ramp in the opposite direction.
Fortunately, there was Figueroa, the main street
through downtown, so I decided to follow it. That turned out to be everyone’s
idea, so I joined a gridlock that crept north.
I apologized for arriving an hour late, and the
patient was too polite to express skepticism that heavy traffic at 1 a.m. was
responsible.
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