An Entire Town Taken Hostage
The entrance ramp to the interstate is closed.
No problem. It is a great day. The sun is out. I am comfortable in my air conditioned truck.
I travel to another interstate ramp. Red and blue lights again.
Another closure. No problem. But my thoughts go to drama.
A police chase? A sniper? A freeway pile up? An Amber alert?
No problem. I can get to another entrance ramp. I am surprised that it is closed,
Not expecting this three times in a row. This must be something serious.
Then I see the helicopter.
Suddenly I am glad I am not on the interstate.
In my mind’s eye convicts are running amok trying to open car doors.
Two more entrance ramps are closed, guarded by police cars.
I circle back to my starting point, exhausted now.
And more than a little bit peeved.
The time I have spent trying to get on a ramp is double the time it usually takes to return home.
I call my husband. “What is going on?”
“The President is in town,” he tells me. “Every interstate ramp from downtown to
The airport is closed, so he can get to the airport safely.” This is forty miles of interstate ramps,
How many police cars and police officers are being paid and used for this ridiculousness?
Our entire town is inconvenienced for a couple of hours, so the czar can get
To his airplane?
I did not think I could dislike the man any more than I already did.
I was wrong.
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