A friend of mine who works at GDOT’s HERO Unit headquarters sent me some photos the other day. They were touching but also hard to look at. The photos were taken at the funeral of Spencer Pass, the first HERO to be killed in the line of duty. I found out about it on Facebook. That’s how I find out about everything these days. None of the local news websites had it for hours. I confess that I was crushed to find out the news in such a generic way, but grateful that the friend who posted it had done so, and also grateful that I wasn’t the one who had to talk to the press. Another friend at GDOT told me they didn’t want to announce it until after they were able to reach the family. When the local media did pick up the story and published some photos of what had happened, I got angry.
Spencer Pass was one of ”my” HEROs. I was there for his graduation from the months-long training program. I took his picture, found out where he was from, and sent his story to the local weeklies in his county. He was highly regarded as a HERO, and he was also a nice guy. That fateful Monday, he had stopped to assist a motorist. His HERO truck was placed properly, amber caution lights blinking, on the right shoulder behind the motorist’s Ford Ranger. Spencer was standing in front of the Ranger, the motorist was on the passenger side. Suddenly a guy in a pickup truck sideswiped the back of the HERO truck, taking a chunk out of the left rear. It kept going, hit the motorist’s vehicle, then hit Spencer. The motorist was able to get out of the way. Spencer Pass, 45 and a father of three, was killed. (more…)
So much has happened since my last post, I hardly know where to begin. I’m no longer at GDOT’s Traffic Management Center, tweeting all the latest in Atlanta traffic. Let’s just say I got a better offer and it didn’t take long to decide to jump back into the private sector. Since then I’ve become one of the masses schlepping up and down SR 400, the Alpharetta Autobahn. When the lanes are open I fly low, all my previous attention to speed abandoned. When they’re not, which is pretty often, I sit and curse the rain, the snow, the construction, the idiots around me, jumping lanes and cutting others off. If I yell “ASSHOLE!” fewer than three times in one trip, it’s a good day.
Before I left the TMC, I drove up to Knoxville one weekend to see my old friends and hear Sarah Pirkle play her new album, “Walking Tall Through High Weeds.” The traffic slammed to a halt just south of the Calhoun exit. I could hear and see ambulances and firetrucks screaming down I-75 southbound, then appear in my rearview mirror as they snaked up the choked northbound lanes. Tractor-trailers ahead of me inched over to the right shoulder, but for the most part, we were all completely stopped. I called 511 and got the Operator to put me through to my friend Jennifer, who was manning the Supervisor’s desk that Saturday. I reported what I could see, and asked them to call the GSP. Then I called my friend Cissy, ranting that the traffic and the accidents followed me wherever I went. She was sympathetic, but knowing I lived for this shit, laughed and said they knew the TQ was coming. (more…)
So this morning I got to the TMC with an hour to spare before my 10 am tour. 25 high school students were coming to the TMC as part of Clark Atlanta University’s “Transportation Institute.” I hadn’t even put the souvenir bags together yet. But first, I had to check my voicemail. Big mistake. It was a twice-forwarded message that initially went to the main switchboard. An epithet-filled rant from an angry motorist about being stuck in traffic on I-85 on Saturday afternoon. No location, no name or number, but lots of F-bombs starting about 5 seconds in. Nice. Real class, and I mean K-L-A-S. Put me just in the right mood to tell a bunch of high schoolers about NaviGAtor, the HEROs and 511. At least the guy didn’t cuss one of my Operators out.
What motivates people to call or e-mail such vitriol? I hate the traffic as much as anybody. Steam comes out of my ears when I have to sit in it, which (thank the gods) I don’t have to do very often. If I get stuck in traffic, it’s just a matter of missing a window OR it’s just my own fault for not paying attention or following the routine. But I have never – even before I got to GDOT – thought of calling a switchboard and cussing it out. What if they got my number and called me back? As it happened, this guy did not leave his name or his number. He just wanted to vent. But then, why call a switchboard? Why not talk to a real person? At least he could have found out the problem.
So I’m finally back after a pretty long absence, which doesn’t bode well for my career as a blogger. I was told “30 blogs in 30 days” but only managed about 4 before the you-know-what hit the fan. My mother had to be hospitalized a few times in a matter of weeks, and in between visits to the ER, there was the usual learning curve of dealing with different doctors, different medications, different opinions, and all the fun second-guessing and blind judgment calls that go along with it. But Mom’s all right and I will be. My work is still there, every day, waiting for me. No work fairies have shown up to get it done. Traffic keeps snarling almost as predictably as the sunsets, especially when raindrops start to fall. The traffic reporters keep exclaiming that it’s worse than ever, even with school being out. I just marvel at how quickly everything comes to a halt and everyone’s routine is interrupted. (more…)
Today was the quarterly meeting of the TIME Task Force, a group I was “voluntold” to join back in 2005 that quickly became one of the best parts of my job. You know TIME has to stand for something that sounds really complicated and boring, as all task forces and government agencies do: Traffic Incident Management Enhancement. Say that 5 times really fast. But it accurately describes what the Task Force does – finds ways to enhance traffic incident management, which is a bureaucratic way to say getting the wrecks off the damn roads.
What’s funny is that the TIME Task Force has survived seven years due to the sheer force of will of a few people, and the DOT’s willingness to let some of us to serve on the TIME Board of Directors. Other than that, TIME hasn’t been able to get on many people’s radar, or stay on it for very long. The irony is – and I think that phrase will be in every post on this blog – that accidents are 50% of the traffic problem. I would think that any group of people trying to figure out (1) how to prevent accidents or (2) finding “best practices” in getting the damn road open after an accident would be able to command any amount of money needed for the organization. Or at least get the attention of everyone interested in solving Atlanta’s notorious, relentless congestion. So far, that’s not the case. (more…)
There’s nothing prettier than a bird’s-eye view of a wide-open highway on a sunny day. Well, except a wall-size map that shows nothing but green, meaning the highways are all wide-open. A boring day at the Traffic Management Center is a great day for everybody else. Conversely, an “exciting” day at the TMC usually means some major accident that will ruin everybody’s day, if they’re fool enough to get on the interstate behind it. Then the phones start ringing off the hook, and the Operators start catching seven varieties of hell from faceless, anonymous, really upset people.
If I were one of the TMC Operators, I think I’d have to have a new liver by now. Or I’d be a really good candidate for that show, “Intervention.” I’d be like the poor girl who was hooked on computer duster and bought 10 cans a day at the Office Depot. And lately the calls have been pouring in fast and more furious than ever. The traffic is back to what it was in early 2007, when gas was cheap and plentiful. And now that more people know about 511, they call to vent to whomever will answer the phone. It’s been brutal since early March. (more…)
It rains cars in Atlanta. Try driving in a storm, and you’ll see that this is true. As soon as the drops start to fall, there’s a much longer queue at a traffic light, and by the time you get on the interstate, something has happened and everyone has ground to a halt. People think that having their own car is a sign of independence and freedom, but when you’re sitting in your car, unable to move, and everyone around you is stuck, you realize that, in Atlanta, having a car means you’re willing to spend time in your own little prison. And the prison is not just the car. It’s the mindset that going anywhere requires planning and a certain willingness to give up a lot of time just to run mundane errands. Every trip requires at least 30 minutes, plus planning time, if you’re going to drive somewhere. For suburbanites, even 30 minutes isn’t enough.
I’m paid to watch and report on traffic every day. I’ve discovered that, if people know WHY they’re stuck on I-75 for about 30 minutes, immobile, they’re OK with it. They just want to know why. They accept that they can’t move – the aggravation is the not-knowing, not the not-moving.
Why is that? Does anyone put a price on the aggravation anymore, or is that just part of the price of living in a big city? Atlanta used to be a nice place to live and work. People have moved here in droves, and they’re still coming, despite the traffic. But most of the current residents don’t remember what it was like to get around without thinking twice about it. Those of us who do can only shake our heads. And then spend about an hour planning our next adventure up the Downtown Connector.
It wasn’t always this way, and it doesn’t have to be this way. But it’s gonna take everybody to fix it. The D.O.T., the legislature, the PD, the Governor’s office, the Feds, the business community — everybody is still beating their brains out to figure out the “solution” to Atlanta’s traffic problem. But there’s an underlying belief that, like the weather, traffic is just one of those inevitable conditions that no one can really do anything about.
I refuse to accept that. And it’s become a personal mission not only to let everybody know where the bad traffic or accidents are, but to get all of us involved. This will only work when everyone decides to break out of his own individual prison.
