No Predictable Catastrophes, Even in L.A.
As massive construction projects threatened to plunge Mulholland Drive and its environs into panic, there was a happy ending as everything worked out just fine.
Los Angelinos are accustomed to preparing for doomsday scenarios. Nearly every home has an emergency rucksack containing a first aid kit, a portable radio, passports, flashlights, water, energy bars, etc., ready to be taken on the escape route.
Disaster can strike Los Angeles at any time of the day or night: earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, racial unrest and landslides, the City of Angels has had to cope with many catastrophes. As a rule, however, the residents react calmly to these constant threats to their existence.
There's only one thing that makes people nervous here: the prospect of having to put up with limited mobility for an hour or two. An Angelino with no access to the freeway soon feels like a fish out of water. The announcement that they would have to do without a 10-mile stretch of Interstate 405 due to construction on Mulholland Drive in July was enough to unleash a wave of panic throughout La-La-Land. That 10-lane interstate is one of L.A.'s main arteries, connecting the coastal “Westside” with the San Fernando Valley. On an average weekend, more than half a million people use it. Despite the relatively long distances Angelinos have to contend with, the interstate system assures that a trip from ones front door to any destination will be a short one. Twenty minutes from Westwood to the L.A. International Airport and ten minutes to the ocean. That's the freeway's promise despite the fact that it is seldom free, regularly disappointing its fans with miserably long traffic jams. Nevertheless, the freeways are a part of L.A.'s easy living atmosphere. Take Interstate 405 from Bel Air and get on the Santa Monica freeway, and you're practically downtown at Disney Hall in no time.
Elegant limousines can speed past bad neighborhoods on the freeway, but without it drivers have to use side streets where they might possibly find themselves stuck for hours in a creepy part of town. A major traffic snarl of enormous proportions had been feared. Instead of advertising, 70 digital billboards carried warnings of the approaching mega-jam and the city's police department asked people to pass the warning to their friends via Twitter. A new word joined the language: “Carmageddon.” Jet Blue Airlines had a special offer in advance of the disastrous weekend in the form of a special $4 mini-flight from Long Beach to Burbank, a trip that normally takes 40 minutes by car when the freeway isn't blocked. And for $400, you could book your own private helicopter.
But much to everyone's surprise, the much-feared auto apocalypse never materialized. People simply decided to stay at home. For 54 hours, Los Angeles was transformed into a city of pedestrians and bicyclists. And along Interstate 405, one could hear birds singing and children laughing for an entire weekend.
Los Angelinos are accustomed to preparing for doomsday scenarios. Nearly every home has an emergency rucksack containing a first aid kit, a portable radio, passports, flashlights, water, energy bars, etc., ready to be taken on the escape route.
Disaster can strike Los Angeles at any time of the day or night: earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, racial unrest and landslides, the City of Angels has had to cope with many catastrophes. As a rule, however, the residents react calmly to these constant threats to their existence.
There's only one thing that makes people nervous here: the prospect of having to put up with limited mobility for an hour or two. An Angelino with no access to the freeway soon feels like a fish out of water. The announcement that they would have to do without a 10-mile stretch of Interstate 405 due to construction on Mulholland Drive in July was enough to unleash a wave of panic throughout La-La-Land. That 10-lane interstate is one of L.A.'s main arteries, connecting the coastal “Westside” with the San Fernando Valley. On an average weekend, more than half a million people use it. Despite the relatively long distances Angelinos have to contend with, the interstate system assures that a trip from ones front door to any destination will be a short one. Twenty minutes from Westwood to the L.A. International Airport and ten minutes to the ocean. That's the freeway's promise despite the fact that it is seldom free, regularly disappointing its fans with miserably long traffic jams. Nevertheless, the freeways are a part of L.A.'s easy living atmosphere. Take Interstate 405 from Bel Air and get on the Santa Monica freeway, and you're practically downtown at Disney Hall in no time.
Elegant limousines can speed past bad neighborhoods on the freeway, but without it drivers have to use side streets where they might possibly find themselves stuck for hours in a creepy part of town. A major traffic snarl of enormous proportions had been feared. Instead of advertising, 70 digital billboards carried warnings of the approaching mega-jam and the city's police department asked people to pass the warning to their friends via Twitter. A new word joined the language: “Carmageddon.” Jet Blue Airlines had a special offer in advance of the disastrous weekend in the form of a special $4 mini-flight from Long Beach to Burbank, a trip that normally takes 40 minutes by car when the freeway isn't blocked. And for $400, you could book your own private helicopter.
But much to everyone's surprise, the much-feared auto apocalypse never materialized. People simply decided to stay at home. For 54 hours, Los Angeles was transformed into a city of pedestrians and bicyclists. And along Interstate 405, one could hear birds singing and children laughing for an entire weekend.
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