Every time I am stuck in a traffic jam on Interchange 5, I vow that the next time I will try to leave from work early.
But every evening it is the same story: I go zipping along happily on the highway to my home in Jebel Ali and just as I am nearing my destination, everything comes to a grinding halt. I look at my dashboard clock and it is as if I am stuck in a time zone, because it is exactly the same time it was the previous evening: 7.15pm.
I look out of my windscreen and the long queue of cars slowly snaking up the flyover look pretty from a distance as the brake lights come on and go off every few seconds, like it was a Latin American Conga dance, where everyone in a single file takes three small steps forward and kick to the side on the fourth beat.
“So, where are you?”, my wife invariably asks, as I sit in line and keep switching radio channels to while away the time. The RJ’s incessant chatter about traffic jams and how to avoid them makes the situation even more frustrating.
It wasn’t like this a couple of years ago till clusters called the Discovery Gardens came up. The population seems to have doubled from the 30,000 families that were initially living in this area.
The next day I take Interchange 6 leading down to Ibn Battuta Gate, thinking it would be faster. I am sure everyone knows this by now, but for some reason time ticks away very slowly when you are stuck in a traffic jam.
It takes me 40 minutes to go up the flyover ramp, slowly negotiate a roundabout — jammed between a bus going to Gold Souq, a water delivery truck and someone who desperately wanted to get out of line and head off to Abu Dhabi.
After we crawl past the first roundabout, there is another one which slows down the line of cars coming from the Jebel Ali Free Zone. Since we do not chat much at home, I put on my headphones and my wife and I discuss things as I sit on the flyover.
One thing I have noticed is that despite the delay and inconvenience, fellow motorists keep a look out for each other. One minute they are cutting rudely ahead of you or honking at you to get out of the way, but if you happen to be in trouble, everyone turns into a good neighbour.
The other day I was driving a rental as mine was at the garage and I miscalculated when the fuel indicator said it was empty. When my car’s fuel gauge says empty, it means I have enough petrol to get to Abu Dhabi as it has a huge reserve tank. I thought I would get to the nearest petrol station easily, but didn’t calculate the time I would spend sitting on the flyover.
The rented car coughed and came to a standstill and behind me was a huge line of SUVs and very hungry people who were eager to get home.
I thought I would get lynched, but everyone was understanding about my stupidity and one motorist got down and helped me push my car to the side. When I was returning from the petrol station with a bright red jerrycan, a woman shouted from her car asking if I wanted a lift. After this, I watch for others stranded on the roads.
There is one way out of the massive traffic jams here. I was reading in Gulf News that some people in Sao Paulo hire helicopters to beat traffic jams in Brazil’s business capital. It may be just a matter of time before such a service starts here in Dubai.
