Historical February–March 2008 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
OK, this is not going to be another article about the closing of Highway 40.
I don’t know about you, but I am so tired of the 40 hoopla.
I mean, give me a break. Political candidates are assassinated in precarious countries, global warming threatens cities and species, a wild tiger escapes at a zoo and kills someone, and presidential candidates file charges and recharges.
All this is happening and yet what are the headlines about? Yep, the closing of Highway 40.
I used to think that the old news axiom, “If it bleeds, it leads” was the worst thing possible in journalism. Regardless of the tabloid or channel, each daily update started with a shooting here or a killing there. I’ve been doing a series of presentations for Wachovia employees who might be moving to St. Louis, and invariably someone asks about us being the crime capital of the country. Give me a break!
Each time I hear this I’m tempted to jump over the table and strangle the questioner with my tie. That wouldn’t help our image in this area, of course, so I wisely resist the temptation.
All they need to do is pick up a rag or turn on the tube, though, and this specious calumny is promulgated. (How’s that for a mouthful?) Anyway, “If it bleeds it leads” used to be the media manta. Any shooting anywhere was newsworthy. Forget medical advances or educational gains, ignore altruistic acts or neighborhood renovation, pass over world peace and a cure for cancer, but let’s spend three minutes interviewing the sobbing spouse or parent of someone who was killed.
I pay for cable to get this? Where was I heading? Oh yeah, anyway, “If it bleeds it leads” has been replaced by “Traffic Trumps.” Forget that political tragedy and ignore that escaped tiger, let’s talk about Highway 40 and what to do! Honestly, there are times when I yearn for a good old report on crime and an interview or three. Really, how big a deal is the highway closing and for whom? Who lives out there anyway?
I mean, have you ever been out THERE? Why would someone choose to live somewhere where a third of your house was really the garage? Why would a person elect to live where the only trees that you see are those on television? Who would want to live where the housing was boring with a capital DULL? OK, I grant you that a few folks out there are good and worthy. They’re a minority, but they’re the kind of people we want to be east of Skinker. Apparently 170,000 cars a day traveled highway 40 (past tense), so let’s assume that 1% of them pass our muster. Alright, that may be a high estimate, but bear with me, dear reader. So how do we get those 1,700 people from the hinterland to civilization? What are those commuting lifeboats? I’m a native St. Louisan so I know the thoroughfares of this town like the back of my forehead. Off the bat, then, forget Clayton and Olive Avenues. Those were congested to begin with, and will be even worse now. Whenever I’m on those streets, I always wonder why someone wants to make a left turn (three right turns are always easier) but some do, and the impact of traffic is horrendous. (Personally, I think the problem could be solved if all businesses were located on the north sides of the streets. No one would ever have to turn left.
I wonder why no one else has ever thought of it!) OK, so we’ve ruled out these tiny streets.
Now what? Our 1,700 amigos and amigas are still out west, clamoring to be free. Ahhh, those of you from other towns are thinking the obvious: “Hawkeye, you old sage, have you forgotten mass transit?” Pray tell, Mass transit, indeed, naive ones!
This country was based on a separation between church and state, so no way am I going to advocate bringing church rituals into the solution.
I apologize to the 1,700 but if we ease into Mass Transit, what’s next? Genuflecting garages? Sanctimonious streetcars? Biblical busses? Communion cannot be part of commuting. Prayer has a role, understood, but no way am I going to endorse Mass as part of the solution. So what does that leave us? Relax, it’s Hawkeye to the rescue!
The solution is as simple as can be; it’s right before our very eyes. Think CONGA LINE. Yep, everyone coming from there to here meets in the morning, let’s say at Chesterfield Mall, with their IPODS already fastened to their arms. Everyone is in sync – granted, this will take a bit of coordination – the IPODS begin slamming their musical missives and the group begins to move.
The group, actually, is a line. It’s not a long line, really.
If you figure that each person averages two and one half feet in depth while standing erect (or, more appropriately, dancing erect), the 1,700 person line only extends a bit over 4,000 feet. That’s less than a mile.
There they are, standing together, one after the other, near Chesterfield Mall.
Each person is wearing the IPod, their two hands on the two hips of the individual in front of them. (Or is it one hip?) The IPODS begin to do their thing and the CONGA LINE comes alive.
There it is, swaying from side to side ambling up and down the road. Our CONGA LINE is on the side of the being repaired highway, not taking up much space, to the amusement of the construction workers. Since all the IPODS have the same song, in fact, the workers can hear the music too. So there they are, pouring concrete and painting traffic lanes, moving their bodies to Ricky Nelson singing “I’m A Traveling Man.” Simple, eh? Our 1,700 westco anointed friends making it to civilization each day via their line de conga.
They get here a bit later, granted, but they always arrive with smiles on their faces. Plus, exercise is good for the heart, so I’m told, and conga-ing for two years will mean that everyone loses weight and is healthier. Insurance rates decrease as a side benefit.
I must say, I know that there are many bright people working in government, but I have to wonder. How could someone not have thought of this before now?
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, February–March 2008.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2008_02.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
