Sometimes when I’m trying to get through traffic on my bike, I mumble to myself. These mumbles generally involve a range of different cuss word combinations with “Godmotherfuckingdamnit” being one of my favorites. This commentary is meant for me and no one else. But I got caught the other day at the corner of 9th and Bryant.
“Jesusfuckingchrist,” I grumbled as I waited for six lanes of traffic to find a way around four lanes of traffic that had gotten stuck in the middle of an intersection when the lights turned.
“Tell you what,” said someone behind me on the sidewalk, “you cover me and we’ll all head out into the intersection together?”
I turned to see a friendly face in a blue city work uniform.
Slightly embarrassed, I smiled and over explained how quiet things had been during the holidays and getting back to normal was going to take some getting used to.
“Yeah, this place is nice when everyone’s gone…but if you think you’ve got it bad, try driving that thing around the city,” he replied, pointing to street sweeper parked in the distance.