Reverse Happiness

I get perverse satisfaction listening to traffic reports on radio these days. The daily congestion on the roads, tunnels and bridges is mind-boggling.

I haven't been part of that scene for some time. I commuted from New Jersey to New York City for more than 40 years. Initially, I drove into the city before becoming a bus passenger. Busing was better. Even then delays were expected.

To get to work on time, I usually left home early. I had plenty of reading material and some snacks for trip home. Snowstorms were the worst. The buses either couldn't get into the Port Authority or when they left became part of the inchway-on-the-highway.

The longest ride I had from the city to my parked car 17 miles away was over five hours. Then I had to barrel out of a snow drift and coax the car home through streets covered in deep snow. Fortunately, I was driving a stick-shift VW Rabbit with front wheel drive and it performed beautifully.

It wasn't as bad as sitting in a plane on the tarmac for hours, although I've been through that as well. The longest stretch was six hours at La Guardia Airport and it had nothing to do with weather. While waiting for take-off a passenger died of a heart attack. We had to wait for the authorities to remove the victim.

The point of all this is that while I sympathize with all business travelers, I'm glad I'm out of the mix.

I'm tagging it “reverse happiness.”