Tuesday, September 29, 2015

The real circus

We have had a busy week.
We had several things to do that included driving into inner Salt Lake and we narrowly escaped with our lives.
It's a busy place, this city center designed by Brigham Young. I think it worked really well in olden times when there were far fewer cars and more genuine concern for mankind.
Now, there are cars everywhere traveling at a high rate of speed and not very many friendly drivers.
There are split-second decisions to be made, a wide variety of mistakes to make.
It's really very scary.
One night we had to be at the Capitol Theatre by 7 p.m. for a play so we decided to eat somewhere in the city "on our way."
To do that we had to find a place to park and to dine that was located close by.
And since we're coming from Utah County, we had to get onto the freeway and then down the freeway through the eternal construction zone.
Bless our little electric car.
Because we are a zero-emission vehicle, we could slip into the carpool lane and zip on by everybody else — that is, when people would allow us to change lanes and come over. For some reason, drivers in Utah are very territorial.
We made it through unscathed.
Then we had a little trouble at the intersection when the green arrow went off and everybody started coming at us before we were out of the way. (It was their turn, why should they back off just because we were still in the road?)
For the next event, my daughter and I and three grandkids headed out.
My daughter drove and skillfully dodged drivers who were not happy to share the road. She's lived in Salt Lake and is used to the insanity.
But we still had to find parking within a 4-year-old's ability to walk to the arena. We still had to jump out of the way when crazed drivers raced out of the entryways and tried to run us over.
Then coming home, we were stationery for a good part of the time, absolutely not moving for 45 minutes for no good reason we could see.
Honestly, it took forever.
My advice? My plan for the next event?
Stay away or take the Trax.

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