One of the things I like best about where I live is that I’m right next to a street that runs parallel to I-95. So if I want to shoot downtown, it’s much easier — or was, until this week. The state has just begun the two-year reconstruction of a railroad bridge over that street, and this week was the first navigating the ensuing clusterfuck of detours.
It’s mostly not an issue for me (because I work from home) but this morning, I had a last-minute doctor’s appointment, and I had to drive at the height of rush hour. I have to say, although I do miss working in an office and being around people, I most emphatically do not miss rush hour traffic. Even my last office job was an easy 22-minute commute, so I’m spoiled.
This morning? Oy. But I did finally get to Delaware Avenue and drove through Society Hill (named after the 18th century Free Society of Traders, which had their offices there) over those goddamned frigging cobblestones*. Boy, do I hate cobblestones. Every time I complain about them, people say, “But they’re historic!” They’re not, not in the way they think. (They were installed in the late 1800s, and if you really want Colonial authenticity, the streets should be mud.)
But here’s the thing: The cobblestones, unlike the rest of the city, do not have potholes. So there’s that.
*Technically, they’re not cobblestones. They’re Belgian blocks, carved from granite. Cobblestones are actual round stones. But everyone calls them that, so…
