Stuck in LA Traffic
Traffic was always bad in LA. Typically, Ranell was used to it, but today was ridiculous! The bumper-to-bumper mess had him stopped dead. He glanced at his watch. What's the point of getting off early if you waste your day like this? To make matters worse, he was stopped beside some homeless woman holding a cardboard sign that read, “Hungry, please help.”
Ranell fixed his stare straight ahead, studiously avoiding eye contact with the pathetic creature trying to attract his attention. It seemed like there were thousands of people like this. It was getting worse every year.
The phone rang, and Ranell was grateful for the distraction. The caller ID said it was his wife. She’s probably mad that I’m taking so long.
“Sorry I’m late, hon. Traffic is a nightmare today.”
His wife wasn't mad, although she did sound anxious, even apologetic. She'd been unable to make reservations at Raffaello's or any other restaurants they liked.
“That’s strange,” Ranell leaned sideways, looking over his shoulder, craning his neck as he tried to change lanes on the crowded freeway. There was some sort of large farm tractor blocking the way ahead. I thought those things weren’t allowed on these streets. The early stages of road rage competed with his need to maintain an upbeat mood while talking to his wife. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll just stop by the store and pick something up at the supermarket. What do you say to a nice candlelight dinner on the pergola?”
Eventually, Ranell fought his way through to an exit. As he glided down into the off-ramp, he saw the reason for the traffic jam. Stretching as far ahead as he could see on the freeway he’d just left were row after row of farm machines. They were deliberately choking the roadway. It was some sort of protest. Idiots! Ranell gritted his teeth. You’re not going to win anyone over this way. As far as I’m concerned, whatever you’re protesting, it just backfired!
Choose Option 1: Pick Something up from the Supermarket
Choose Option 2: Go Straight Home