The fucking jail light. It kills me every time.
There is a street in downtown Tacoma with lights every two or three blocks. For those of you who live ’round here, I’m talking about Yakima. Anyway, every time PVDD and I are driving him to work, we take the same route: 56th to M, M to Center, Center to Yakima, Yakima to 6th, 6th to Tacoma. This is after many hours and trips to determine the most fuel and time efficient way of getting him where he needs to be in a reasonably timely fashion.
At any rate, there is a section of road (13th through 9th) where there is three stoplights, right in a row. The last stoplight is right on the corner where the Pierce County jail resides in all its oppressive, brooding glory. When you stop at the 9th street light, you are sitting right next to it. It’s a big brick building. You can’t miss it. I am convinced that the city has planned this so that you are forced to sit and stare at that building in contemplation of all crimes you’ve ever committed and those you’ve only thought about and never acted upon.
We have been trying for months and we have never made the 9th street light. Ever. EVER.
Every time we get onto Yakima, we look at each other with hope and firm resolve that THIS time, we are going to make that fucking light. THIS TIME our crusade will be successful and we will figure out the magical combination of speeds that will enable us to coast through that light like it was made for us. We will own that light. It will be on its knees, begging for mercy. There is no doubt. And you can be sure that when it happens, I will blog about it. Immediately.
Except as I said, we have been trying for months and so far, we continue to be stopped looking at that jail. PVDD seems to think that we will never make it. I continue to keep hope alive, but it is getting difficult.