It takes a nation of a-holes to keep us down

After several years in LA, the land that public transportation forgot, it's nice on many levels to be back in the city of fat pizzas and elevated lines. But for various reasons, it was almost a more pleasant experience to drive in LA. Don't throw your keys at me until you hear me out.

Exhibit A:
Chicago is the only place I have seen a cop drive down a one-way street the wrong way just because he could. No siren, no checking cross-streets, no hurry.

Exhibit B:
It's the only place where people will pull up in front of a house or apartment building before work, lean on their horns, and keep honking until their passengers drag their butts out of bed. There were times I badly wanted a paintball gun to tattoo these a-holes.

Exhibit C:
Of any place I've lived, Chicago tops the charts for double-parking. And I've lived in Mexico, where even the locals admit most of their compatriots are egregious violators in this regard. Four-way flashers are not a force field, a-holes.

Exhibit D:
Chicago has, in my experience, the highest incidence of drivers with absolutely no remorse over blocking four lanes of traffic at rush hour to make a left turn from the far right lane with the red light against them.

Exhibit E:
How many cities with such a gorgeous lakefront can boast so many people who drive to the shore and never even get out to enjoy the view from the other side of the windshield?

And this doesn't even touch on my experiences as a pedestrian and (respectful) rollerblader in this town.