I hate it when I get stuck somewhere in the Philadelphia grid, in a traffic jam caused by some random act of violence. It's hard enough making my way home through all of those four-way stops after a long day at work, but add to that the horror of sitting there, unable to do anything to help, as they zip a body into a crinkly black bag and place it into an ambulance for a futal trip to the hospital to be officially announced dead.
One day on my way home a Chinese man got popped by a stray bullet while leaning into a car window; he was apparently saying goodbye to his family as they were heading out to do the week's shopping. I heard the shot from just a block away - I heard it but didn't see a thing - and I passed by before anyone had the chance to start screaming, or call the ambulance to block the traffic for that matter.
Lives were changed in an instant on my evening commute. And that evening the story got all of a 10-second highlight on the evening news, which is where I learned about what I'd barely missed.
Anyway, I guess the traffic around here shouldn't really bother me, huh? In some places, traffic is the greatest problem on people's mind. Here in Philadelphia, traffic is the least of our worries. You just have to take it in stride.
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