‘Hey dude, ain’t none of us going anywhere’

There is a flip side to tourists getting snapshots of themselves in the snow at the Welcome to Las Vegas sign, children crafting Snow Angels and skiers anticipating great conditions this weekend on Mount Charleston. It's a law of nature.

Just as it's a law of nature that at times of extreme stress or difficulty, many will conduct themselves admirably while others only exacerbate the problem for everyone by acting like selfish, damned fools.

It is 6 p.m. on Wednesday evening and I am sitting through my fifth rotation of traffic lights at Pebble Road, headed south on Eastern Avenue. I have just set a personal record for my longest commute since moving here 30 months ago, and I'm not even home yet.

It is 20 miles from the intersection of Bonanza Road and Martin Luther King Boulevard to our house in Sun City Anthem. Before construction began on Interstate 15 south, the drive usually took 35 minutes. When that route stretched to almost an hour, I instead took U.S. Highway 95, a road that last week resulted in my previous record commute of 1 hour and 40 minutes because of an accident.

So on Wednesday, I opted for surface streets, knowing that I would eventually have to wind up on Eastern. Now folks who live in southwest Henderson often spit immediately after mentioning the street's name -- for good reason. When there isn't a city crew or contractor cutting it up, repaving or re-repaving it, there is a strip mall's contractor doing the same. Thus, day or night Eastern from Interstate 215 to Anthem Parkway is frequently congested; you pick the day.

If you live south of Anthem Parkway, however, Eastern is the only way in or out except for a funky, dangerous two-lane road south of Henderson Airport that dumps out on St. Rose Parkway.

Anyway, I am stuck Wednesday in a swarm of cars headed south. Thirty minutes later, I have moved a couple of miles, to two blocks north of Sunridge Heights. Forty-five minutes later, I am sitting at the corner of Sunridge Heights. Another 45 and I have moved four blocks further south. Can you spell gridlock?

Yes, Wednesday's snowstorm was an aberration. According to the doo-hickey in my wife's car, we live at 2,900 feet, and we got 10 inches of snow. Some vehicles are not built or equipped to handle even slight inclines during such conditions, and some desert rats have never driven in snow.

And yes, there will always be trouble when the lanes are reduced from four to one as cars spin out or just stop, and city workers try to make a road passable as it climbs into the foothills.

But neither that nor the lack of much foresight or planning at Henderson City Hall is what really caused Wednesday's epoch on Eastern.

At most intersections, many drivers chose simply to ignore traffic lights (much less traffic laws) and pulled into the middle of them, blocking cross traffic. One group sat in the middle of Eastern and Sunridge through six signal rotations.

Want in from a side street? Good luck. Need to make a lane change? Close your eyes and pray.

Of course there was the other side. My favorite was the guy in the red BMW (why is it always a Beemer?) who changed lanes four times in three blocks because he obviously thought other lanes were moving faster. Hey dude, ain't none of us going anywhere.

Even more exasperating, however, were the rocket scientists who pulled into a strip mall at the north end, then raced to the south end to try and get back on Eastern.

Gee, I've never seen that one before.

And just look where it got you: 20 cars ahead and still going nowhere.

It was an ugly night, but not completely unexpected.

Far too many drivers in the Las Vegas Valley are rude, inconsiderate and/or dangerous -- the worst I have seen.

Even Los Angeles, where I lived for eight years, wasn't this bad on a regular basis. The prevailing attitudes here seem to be: Don't you know my time is far more important than yours? Don't you know who I am?

I'd like to think we are better than this.

Maybe we're not.

The one solace to an otherwise disgusting evening came after I arrived home safely 4 hours and 15 minutes later, a new lifetime commute record.

My wife told me about how my teenage grandsons had spent their afternoon and evening.

They had gone through every pair of dry shoes they owned (and were now wearing their Dad's), pushing neighbors' cars off the street and into their driveways. They barely knew some of these folks.

Perhaps there is some hope.

Charlie Waters is director of editorial support services for Stephens Media. He can be reached at cwaters@ stephensmedia.com.