An Open Letter to the State of Maryland
Dear Maryland,
Yes, that's right. I'm taking this straight to you. I've had my incidents with you before, and though I've neglected to document them in this forum, let's face it: I've failed to document lots of things in this forum. But after today's debacle, I find I can maintain my stoic silence no more.
You are, without a doubt, the worst state in the union when it comes to driving.
Caveat: I know I have, time and time again, stated for the record that my least favorite road in the entire country is the Washington, D.C. Beltway. And that, given the orientation of the District amongst and betwixt both Virginia and Maryland, you can only be held accountable for approximately 50% of the shitty driving that occurs on that road. Consider this concession made, but know that my current displeasure stems from an incident that did not occur on the brief stretch of the notorious I-495 on which I traversed today, but rather on the more lamentably awful 80-mile stretch of I-95 that connects Washingtonians to the border of that "small wonder," Delaware.
I departed from my friend Alicia's residence in Arlington, VA at approximately 3:00pm today. Traveling northward through many a brief but fascinating stretch of parkways and interstates that cut a fairly straightforward swath through the southeast corner of Washington, I found myself merging onto I-95 just shy of exit 29 near Laurel. I filled my gas tank -- at $3.65 a gallon for Shell, no less! -- at exit 33, and returned to the highway a mere 20 miles south of downtown Baltimore and approximately 75 miles from Delaware.
Time now for a little math. I departed the gas station, according to my receipt, at 3:36pm. At 65 miles per hour, and accounting for the unavoidable attraction of my foot to the accelerator, I should have entered Delaware somewhere in the vicinity of 4:45pm, right? And with Delaware being such a brief, 10-mile stretch, I should have almost certainly been back in my wonderful home state of New Jersey by approximately 5:00pm, yes?
If so, then why the hell did I not get into New Jersey until after 6:30pm?
The answer, for your information, is because just north of Baltimore, and for the twenty-odd miles beyond it, I-95 was practically a parking lot. A four-lane parking lot. I've never seen such a large road be so completely at a standstill, plodding along at a pace not to dissimilar from that of Peter Gibbons when he spies an old man with a walker proceeding much faster than he.
I found out much later that this was the likely the result of traffic being diverted away from the Bay Bridge, where a tractor trailer tumbled off the span and into the Bay. Certainly, this is a very reasonable explanation, but I find it astonishing that I never once saw a significant influx of people enter the highway at any point, nor did I discover any reason for the snail's-pace traffic to suddenly dissipate and give way to vehicles that rediscovered suddenly, as if escaping from some mechanical hypnotism, that they could drive at the speed limit again.
I tend to want to seek out reasons for stupidity when I see it, but there was none to be found here, and in between bouts of screaming and cursing -- which the new Margot & the Nuclear So and So's disc, The Daytrotter Sessions EP, was only marginally effective at tempering -- my mind was rankled by that awful, stomach-churning feeling known as déjà vu. I've seen driving like this before -- yes, yes, on that god-awful Beltway that you thought we'd finished talking about, but seriously, when five lanes of drivers are doing the same goddamn speed, it bears repeating -- and my experiences with it are almost always localized in the Chesapeake area. Go figure.
Now, I know you'll protest that I'm being unfair, that I'm attributing this awful experience to a set of circumstances that are extraordinary and over which you had no control. But there is another gripe I have about you, Maryland, and your stretch of I-95 that is simply diabolical and wholly inexplicable.
Somehow, within a 55-mile stretch, you charge a staggering ELEVEN DOLLARS in tolls. How could this be?
And yes, I know, the last toll is technically a mile into Delaware (believe me, the First State's gonna be hearing from me too). But even if you except that absurd $4.00 toll -- which, apparently, much be based on time and not distance, considering that the southbound lanes in Delaware were a parking lot -- how do you justify asking folks to cough up $2.00 at the Fort McHenry tunnel in Baltimore, only to demand a whopping $5.00 less than 40 miles later for a tall but otherwise pissant crossing of the Susquehanna River?
It's the fucking Susquehanna River. It costs me just a dollar more to cross the Hudson, and at least there's something useful and entertaining on the other side of that river. At least my state has the courtesy of only charging you when you try to get out.
So in short, Maryland, the nearly-three hours I spent trying to traverse your green fields today have convinced me that there must be some kind of pall cast by your drivers that make it utterly miserable for the rest of us out-of-staters. I don't quite know what the problem is, but if you figure it out, please swing by me and bring it to my attention so that we can begin to rectify this little problem.
I'll even comp your tolls on the way back home.
Sincerely,
Me
Yes, that's right. I'm taking this straight to you. I've had my incidents with you before, and though I've neglected to document them in this forum, let's face it: I've failed to document lots of things in this forum. But after today's debacle, I find I can maintain my stoic silence no more.
You are, without a doubt, the worst state in the union when it comes to driving.
Caveat: I know I have, time and time again, stated for the record that my least favorite road in the entire country is the Washington, D.C. Beltway. And that, given the orientation of the District amongst and betwixt both Virginia and Maryland, you can only be held accountable for approximately 50% of the shitty driving that occurs on that road. Consider this concession made, but know that my current displeasure stems from an incident that did not occur on the brief stretch of the notorious I-495 on which I traversed today, but rather on the more lamentably awful 80-mile stretch of I-95 that connects Washingtonians to the border of that "small wonder," Delaware.
I departed from my friend Alicia's residence in Arlington, VA at approximately 3:00pm today. Traveling northward through many a brief but fascinating stretch of parkways and interstates that cut a fairly straightforward swath through the southeast corner of Washington, I found myself merging onto I-95 just shy of exit 29 near Laurel. I filled my gas tank -- at $3.65 a gallon for Shell, no less! -- at exit 33, and returned to the highway a mere 20 miles south of downtown Baltimore and approximately 75 miles from Delaware.
Time now for a little math. I departed the gas station, according to my receipt, at 3:36pm. At 65 miles per hour, and accounting for the unavoidable attraction of my foot to the accelerator, I should have entered Delaware somewhere in the vicinity of 4:45pm, right? And with Delaware being such a brief, 10-mile stretch, I should have almost certainly been back in my wonderful home state of New Jersey by approximately 5:00pm, yes?
If so, then why the hell did I not get into New Jersey until after 6:30pm?
The answer, for your information, is because just north of Baltimore, and for the twenty-odd miles beyond it, I-95 was practically a parking lot. A four-lane parking lot. I've never seen such a large road be so completely at a standstill, plodding along at a pace not to dissimilar from that of Peter Gibbons when he spies an old man with a walker proceeding much faster than he.
I found out much later that this was the likely the result of traffic being diverted away from the Bay Bridge, where a tractor trailer tumbled off the span and into the Bay. Certainly, this is a very reasonable explanation, but I find it astonishing that I never once saw a significant influx of people enter the highway at any point, nor did I discover any reason for the snail's-pace traffic to suddenly dissipate and give way to vehicles that rediscovered suddenly, as if escaping from some mechanical hypnotism, that they could drive at the speed limit again.
I tend to want to seek out reasons for stupidity when I see it, but there was none to be found here, and in between bouts of screaming and cursing -- which the new Margot & the Nuclear So and So's disc, The Daytrotter Sessions EP, was only marginally effective at tempering -- my mind was rankled by that awful, stomach-churning feeling known as déjà vu. I've seen driving like this before -- yes, yes, on that god-awful Beltway that you thought we'd finished talking about, but seriously, when five lanes of drivers are doing the same goddamn speed, it bears repeating -- and my experiences with it are almost always localized in the Chesapeake area. Go figure.
Now, I know you'll protest that I'm being unfair, that I'm attributing this awful experience to a set of circumstances that are extraordinary and over which you had no control. But there is another gripe I have about you, Maryland, and your stretch of I-95 that is simply diabolical and wholly inexplicable.
Somehow, within a 55-mile stretch, you charge a staggering ELEVEN DOLLARS in tolls. How could this be?
And yes, I know, the last toll is technically a mile into Delaware (believe me, the First State's gonna be hearing from me too). But even if you except that absurd $4.00 toll -- which, apparently, much be based on time and not distance, considering that the southbound lanes in Delaware were a parking lot -- how do you justify asking folks to cough up $2.00 at the Fort McHenry tunnel in Baltimore, only to demand a whopping $5.00 less than 40 miles later for a tall but otherwise pissant crossing of the Susquehanna River?
It's the fucking Susquehanna River. It costs me just a dollar more to cross the Hudson, and at least there's something useful and entertaining on the other side of that river. At least my state has the courtesy of only charging you when you try to get out.
So in short, Maryland, the nearly-three hours I spent trying to traverse your green fields today have convinced me that there must be some kind of pall cast by your drivers that make it utterly miserable for the rest of us out-of-staters. I don't quite know what the problem is, but if you figure it out, please swing by me and bring it to my attention so that we can begin to rectify this little problem.
I'll even comp your tolls on the way back home.
Sincerely,
Me
posted by Dave at 8/10/2008 10:02:00 PM
1 Comments:
Not that it'll make you feel better but the word from my rents friends, informed me that that whole area was at a standstill since a tractor trailer went off the side of the Bay Bridge yesterday.
Post a Comment
<< Home