Shouldn't cyclists be exempt from traffic jams?

Dreaming of wine and an artisan cheese platter.

I pedaled downtown to meet Bob at Cuvee.  He secured outdoor seating for us and had already ordered a glass of wine and a artisan cheese platter so I was anxious to join him.  Somehow I was able to get from our house Butler and San Francisco when the traffic came to a dead stop. 

S@#t!

At first I thought it was due to a snag at the BNSF crossing but no, the log jam was because umpteen million cars were on San Francisco and Old Route 66.  Damn!  I tried to snake around a bit but it just seemed rude and, since many of the motorists seemed to be in a hurry, dangerous.  I took a deep breath and tried to be patient.

Motorcyclists don't like waiting either.

Eventually, I cut in with a motorcyclist as he slowly crept his bike up toward the train track crossing.  He turned to me and asked  "Is it always like this?"  I told him I thought the traffic was due to end of semester partying and students heading home for the summer.  He smiled knowingly.  We'd both been there but ugh, the traffic was taking forever!  In a perfect world bicyclists, noble as we are to leave the car in the garage on a perfectly pleasant Friday evening, should get a free pass from having to wait in a traffic jam.  Surely it is understood it is not we who are responsible for this headache - and I need not mention carbon emissions!

I assume the bike is hers but maybe it's his.

I glanced to my right and saw a pair conversing on the sidewalk, a bike next to them.  I presumed the female of the two had grown tired of the long wait and decided her time was better spent engrossed in conversation.  God only knows how long she had been enduring this hell.

All bad things do come to an end, and I made it across Rt. 66  to Aspen Avenue, where I locked my bike to a sign post since every  bike corral on the block was filled.  It was a First Friday Art Walk night and the turn out looked great.  I made my way over to Cuvee where Bob sat waiting for me and resisting all temptation to devour the cheese platter.  I never would have shown that type of willpower!  We related our day to one another over a split plate of the macaroni and cheese du jour.  Delicious but rich, and Bob mistook my indigestion for anxiety about selling the house and the question of which grad program I'd be attending in the fall.  The idea of getting back on my bike and pedaling anywhere was making me uncharacteristically sick.  We instead walked to his office where I lay down on my side on the floor while he caught up on work for the coming week.  In that perfect world I referred to earlier, we'd live in Amsterdam or Copenhagen where we'd have a bakfiets, and Bob could just deposit his illin' wife in the box and pedal her home, stopping only for a can of ginger ail to settle her tummy. 

Feeling that very rich mac and cheese?

Again, all bad things come to an end and climbing on my bike looked pretty good to me again.  We decided to head home and make plans for our Sunday BBQ with friends.  Once outside, we found the sidewalk more congested and the streets no less packed with cars. 

When feeling woozy and biking in heavy traffic, I go with the helmet.

I was so glad we didn't have to extricate ourselves from downtown trapped in a car moving at a snail's pace.  Exiting downtown would be much easier than getting in; we cut through the alleys in no time and were soon on the bike path running through NAU campus.  I've decided that university campuses must be, at least in the U.S., the closest we have yet come to that perfect world.  Bike paths and bike lanes everywhere.  Everthing in walking distance.  Nobody ever has to be stuck in a traffic jam unless they really want to be.  It's a wonder anyone ever leaves the nirvana-like land of the university campus.  Hopefully, this week I'll know a little more about where and when I might be returning to one.