a few lessons ALDOT should learn

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Driving to my hometown this past Friday, I decided that I would try something different and take the Alabama River Parkway. This proved to be a terrible mistake.

A little background might be necessary, so here goes. Montgomery, Alabama is a nice enough town. However, it has had road construction around the I-65/I-85 junction area for the last seven years. The construction is slated to end in approximately spring, 2017. Well, it seems that way, anyway.

At any rate, making it through Montgomery to Highway 231 and the homestretch of my journey takes roughly 30 minutes. Which isn’t horrible, but it could probably be better.

Enter the Alabama River Parkway. This toll road, off of the same exit 179 of “Interstate or 82” fame, claims to allow its travellers to bypass all that nasty construction and reach the desired goal of Highway 231 more quickly.

Coming toward Montgomery from Birmingham, a few miles before the exit, is a billboard proclaiming the joy that is this turnpike. On the billboard is a lady waving a construction flag, beckoning you to turn off of the interstate and head toward the parkway instead.

Oh, sure, she looks friendly, smiling at you and all. But she knows that it’s all a Siren song designed to trap unsuspecting drivers. I haven’t driven by that sign at night, so I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure that her eyes start glowing red when no one’s looking.

Anyway, back to the idea that I had to take the parkway. I turned off of the exit and proceeded toward the parkway. I get to the toll booth and pay my 75 cents, and begin my journey on the Little Parkway of Horrors.

Now, let’s decide on what makes a good toll road. Surely we could discuss this topic for days on end, but to be succinct, let’s restrict our line of thinking to this cardinal rule of a good parkway that I’m sure can be universally agreed upon: it should be designed to let us go at least as fast as the interstate would let us.

Given that one rule:

  • There should not be a speed limit of 35 on a parkway.
  • There should not be a red light on a parkway.
  • A toll road should not go through a residential area of a town.
  • A parkway should be designed to take you around congested traffic areas.
    • Corollary: it should not dump you directly into the middle of one.

Is this too much to ask? I don’t really think so, but ALDOT thinks differently. And as a result, my normal 30 minute trip through Montgomery was extended to 50 minutes. I bet that flag-waving girl on the billboard had a good chuckle at my expense.

So I may soon be mailing the good folks at ALDOT a self-addressed, stamped envelope with a handwritten note asking for an apology in triplicate and my 75 cents back.

Some memories of last weekend

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Just to name a few:

  • Groomsmen singing songs you wouldn’t normally hear at a wedding (e.g. “Look Away” by Chicago) as if it was a church choir singing them.
  • Various ideas for last-minute processional and recessional themes.
  • Ricky and Tammy stories from olden days.
  • One last Diet-Rite binge.
  • More Simpsons quotes than should be allowed by law.
  • Ricky’s brother playing 80’s TV themes and video game music on the piano. By ear. In chords.
  • “It’s like unwrapping a present!”
  • “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty hungry!”

The days and nights of Brandon German

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Right now, my sleeping habits are completely out of whack. I have been going to bed anywhere from 3 to 5 a.m., and getting up anywhere from 10 to 12 a.m. This is not good for someone who needs to get his body used to an eventual 10-11 p.m. to 6-6:30 a.m. sleep schedule.

So last night, in an effort to gradually get myself to that point, I voluntarily go to bed at 1 a.m. I fall asleep quickly (for me, anyway).

So when do I wake up today? 11:45!

Obviously, my body is missing the clue here. I’d go to bed at 10 tonight, but I’m afraid I might not get up until the next afternoon…

passing through the gates of time

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NW 5th and Robinson.

I’ll never forget that intersection.

My cousin Hesper and I made our way into downtown Oklahoma City that Monday afternoon. We went to Bricktown and ate at a wonderful Italian restaurant. Then we walked around the canal for a little while and went over to Bricktown Ballpark, the minor-league baseball stadium.

Then Hesper asked, “Do you want to go see the Memorial?”

We drove up to the intersection of NW 5th and Robinson. I noticed the rubble on the other side of the street where the YMCA had once stood, not yet cleared.

As we walked up to the Memorial, the first thing that I noticed was a huge granite pillar with an inscription on it:

WE COME HERE TO REMEMBER
THOSE WHO WERE KILLED, THOSE WHO SURVIVED AND THOSE CHANGED FOREVER.
MAY ALL WHO LEAVE HERE KNOW THE IMPACT OF VIOLENCE.
MAY THIS MEMORIAL OFFER COMFORT, STRENGTH, PEACE, HOPE AND SERENITY.

Then I walked through the entryway, and passed through the gate of time.

Inscribed on the back of that pillar is “9:01”. On the other side of the memorial grounds, a similar pillar simply states “9:03”. They stand, twin bookends forever for that moment in time that we shall never forget.

There were a few people around the grounds that day. Many were standing by the reflecting pool that ran for most of the way between the gates of time. I found out later that this area was where NW 5th Street originally was before the bombing. It was closed off for use in the memorial grounds.

Then I took a look to my left, and saw the chairs. All 168 of them. I learned that they were placed in honor of the location of the fallen in the building. There were nine floors in the building; nine rows of chairs echoed the loss.

We walked around to “the fence”. This was where people had left items in remembrance of the victims. Most of it has been taken down, but a section remains for people to leave things. It was still full, with everything from letters to flowers to ribbons.

The museum was not open, so we came back around to the grounds and walked up to the Survivor Tree, the symbol of the memorial. It was an American Elm that endured the blast and rubble and still stands today. Surrounding it was a terrace with a vantage point of the entire memorial. I saw the tree and the inscription written on the wall surrounding it, then took a long, slow look out at the entire memorial grounds, again to the 168 empty chairs, the reflecting pool, both gates of time.

Then, I said “Okay” to Hesper, and we headed back towards the “9:01” gate of time to her car.

Passing back through the gate, I knew that I had just done something very important. The goodness of people is often disputed in today’s world, but seeing this memorial firsthand brought to mind the people that died and a nation that sought to comfort the survivors in any way they could. I would later learn that people came from all over the country to help these people, and didn’t ask for anything in return. The memorial stands as their tribute as well.

If anyone cares anything about being an American, they owe it to themselves to one day take a trip to Oklahoma City. Go to the intersection of NW 5th and Robinson. And pass through the gates of time themselves.