Stoppage Time

“Up ahead, the traffic is jammed so close together that pedestrians are climbing over pickup trucks and through empty rickshaws to cross the street. Two rows to my left is an ambulance, blue light spinning uselessly. The driver is in the road, smoking a cigarette, standing on his tiptoes, looking ahead for where the traffic clears. Every once in awhile he reaches into the open door to honk his horn.” In other words, you really have no right to complain about traffic, unless you’re driving in Dhaka, Bangladesh: the traffic capital of the world.

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