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Traffic jam creative writing

Prompt 35: You are stuck on the highway in the world’s worst traffic jam for at least two days. What happens?

It was a typical day stuck in traffic as motor vehiclists were leaving a “productive” day at work. As the flow of traffic stagnated, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to Power 98. After around roughly a half an hour the songs in rotation began to blur together. Switching the station to Streetz 103.3, I was greeted with the same cycle of songs and decided to cut through the clutter with NPR.

After around 45 minutes all of the motorcyclists on the highway had escaped to freedom, forging their way through the narrow corridors of cars. “They [Motorcyle Companies] should use this as promotional material,” I thought to myself. “I wish I had a motorcycle…better yet, a moped.”

The segment on Here And Now had come to a close at this point and the programming that followed was All Things Considered. The topic: Traffic Patterns Across The Continental U.S. I couldn’t listen. Turning off my car I decided to roll down the windows and listen to the automotive opera occurring, which usually sounds more like a banshee invading the car cabin at speeds of 55+ miles an hour.

Fun Fact: The first season of the HBO series Banshee was shot here in Charlotte, though from my understanding the show’s title has nothing to do with its supernatural counterpart.

Having been in traffic for over an hour at this point was a strange phenomena. I considered capturing the hour long ordeal with my phone when I noticed selfie sticks and bare arms protruding from driver and passenger side windows capturing the dead sea of cars.

Though shielded from the direct rays of the sun, it provided little relief from the humidity which hung thickly as it does during southeastern summers. I decided I would check the traffic reports online, but to no surprise there was limited signal and even slower connection. Everyone had probably already turned to their phone for information/refuge.

Opening Instagram I decided to search and see if WBTV News or CBS News had an account, hoping they would provide some insight. Luckily, WBTV did and they had posted a picture with the hashtags, 277 and Crisis.

Crisis,” I thought to myself. “Let me check this out.”

Looking for more information among a stream of posts, it seemed everyone was as clueless as I. At least they were making the best of it with pictures of impromptu dance parties featuring the hashtag, 277, TrafficJammin,and Crisis, and a nondescript geotag of their location on the highway.

I considered grabbing my cruiser board out of the trunk and skating home, but every scenario ended with me having to return to retrieve Niecy; Niecy is my car, a Nissan.

“I’ll just take a quick nap. If we begin to move before my alarm goes off, the horns should wake me up.”

I rolled the front and backseat windows half-way up and locked the doors. Setting an alarm for thirty minutes, I reached into the backseat for my straw hat. Reclining the chair and shielding my face with the hat, I began a ritualistic chant before sleeping. “I am lucid, the world is vivid…I am lucid, the world is vivid…I am lucid…”

*brrrrrr* *brrrrRRRR* *brrRRRRR* *BRRRRRR* Brrrr* *BRRRRRR*

I awoke in a haze during a crescendo of car horns sounding off. My mouth parched and tongue gritty, I struggled to gain my bearings. Groggy, the humidity had drained me of as much energy as I had tried to retain. Reaching for my phone to check my alarm, I realized night had fallen and I must have slept through my alarm. Looking at my watch the dial read, 9:00pm.

“I’ve been asleep for three and half hours!”

Straightening my seat in a flash, I thrust my keys towards the ignition and paused to look out the windows. It was then that I took in the horror…

Traffic – quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

The traffic, the couriers, the drivers of supplies, the medical workers – they were our arteries, the blood that carried everything the body needed to survive.

From windows of the tall houses the traffic are as Hot Wheels upon the blacktop road, lights on, engines purring, green lights up ahead.

These days of well moving traffic in the city centre have become more normal, the air is sweeter, the birds audible, and a slower pace has settled in our city-souls.

It was the lightest traffic there had ever been. So many worked from home these days. It was the age of the tele-commute and the air had never been more fresh, the roads had never been more relaxing.

Traffic was sprinkled upon the blacktop that day as if the roads were a playset that came with only a few cars.

If the right to breathe clean air and grow vegetables not covered in pollutants is higher than the right to drive a car, then we have a powerful path to victory. Our rights to ongoing and sustainable living all over our planet must trump the so-called rights of others to make money or have convenience where the result is an obvious threat to the ecological life-support systems we all share. It’s time to be real grown ups about this and find the will to put the future of our children above our own desires and wants.