A small plane crashed at the McDonald's on Cypress Creek in Ft. Lauderdale yesterday morning - scant blocks from where D. and I used to work. Fortunately, everyone walked away from the crash. But man, that would have been a hellish morning commute. When I left Ft. Lauderdale, I was living 6 miles from my office...but it still took 25 minutes to get to work. I commute every morning from uptown to St. Rose, which is 15 miles, and it generally only takes 25-30 minutes. Traffic in SoFla is just that bad. However, the increasing prevalence of billboards in Spanish here in town offers a comforting reminder of my four years down south. The moral of the story? It's always a good idea to know choice epithets in Haitian-Creole and Spanish whilst hurtling down I-95 towards certain death during your morning commute - the taqueria vans in Jefferson Parish even offer a comforting measure of, well, sameness.
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