Traffic Slow Down

Has this happened to you?

You’re running late, but forgot to send an email. You take the extra few minutes and keep your fingers crossed that traffic at 5:15 p.m. won’t be that bad. Of course you are lying to yourself.

I sat in traffic for an hour last night. If I left 15 minutes early it wouldn’t have made a difference. For heaven sakes, what’s the delay? A stalled vehicle? An accident? Construction? Armageddon? After going only two miles in 20 minutes, I exited the freeway and took the side streets over the west hills and through the Vista woods at a horrendously slow 25 miles an hour for 10 miles.

Finally I arrived at my destination only 45 minutes late. But guess what? No FRICKEN parking anywhere. Yep, that’s right. I circled those six blocks for 15 minutes in pouring down rain, tears dripping down my checks, screaming at the stupid traffic lights: “Why? Why do I come in to town? Why do I do this to myself? I hate you city!”

Then I entered the garage. Round and round I went deep below the city, at each turn hoping to find a spot but instead being blocked by cars trying to get into teeny tiny spots only big enough for Mini Coopers. Finally, four levels below the street it took me re-parking three times to fit so that I could open my door with enough room to get out. The entire time I was questioning myself: Is it worth it?

I had never been to a Mindshare event before. There I was only an hour and 15 minutes late thinking everyone would be gone. Not the case. The place was filled wall to wall. A social networking group in person is so much better than social networking on-line. You just have to find the right group of people worth talking to. There are certainly characters out there that after talking for five minutes about CSS or HTML5 or dopple something or other you find it imperative to run and hide. But there were mega cool people too – like me ;).

Lesson learned: Traffic slows you down and being late sucks, but don’t give up. Never give up. Remain undaunted in the face of adversity.

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