Sunday, May 28, 2006 | 7:40 a.m.
I finally grew so angry about all the orange safety barrels on the freeway - they're more of a hazard than a benefit - I called to complain.
And what I learned is that navigating the bureaucracy is scarier than navigating the freeway.
On a number of on-ramps around town (and I'm specifically thinking about the 215 through Henderson, where snail's-pace widening is the never-ending story), barrels guide motorists onto the seemingly empty slow lane. They're intended, I suppose, to keep vehicles clear of work along the rocky shoulder.
When you end up in the slow lane, you assume you are safely in the flow of traffic. So you speed up.
But without warning, the barrels squeeze you into the next lane over, where there is traffic - and you have to quickly decide whether to sideswipe the car in that second lane, send a barrel flying through the air or slam on the brakes and get rammed from behind by the fellow behind you who's in the same predicament.
A sign on the on-ramp that warns motorists that a lane is closed would certainly help. I guess that's too obvious for people in the business of promoting freeway safety.
So Citizen Tom called to complain. I started by calling information, 411.
"Welcome to Excel Communications, this is Virginia, how can I help you?"
"The state's department of transportation, please."
The phone rang .
"TSA, this is Gina."
TSA? What's that?
"We're the Transportation Services Authority. We regulate taxicabs and limousines."
How about freeway barrels, I asked.
Nope, sorry. Taxicabs and limos. No barrels.
I called 411 again. This time I got Sam, and I told him I really wanted to get the people in charge of freeways, not taxicabs. (I didn't mention the orange barrels.)
He connected me to the Nevada Department of Transportation in Carson City, which referred me to the local Las Vegas office. Bingo.
I told the phone receptionist in Las Vegas about my complaint and she said it was a problem for the city of Henderson.
I was surprised to hear that the city of Henderson controls a freeway.
She gave me a number for Henderson City Hall. The woman who answered was intimate with street sweeping but not the freeway.
"I'm told you handle the 215, which was news to me," I told her.
"News to me too," the City Hall lady said. She put me on hold for a few moments. "My people tell me you need to talk to endot." (Turns out she was referring to NDOT, the Nevada Department of Transportation.)
I told her that NDOT had referred me to her.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "How dcan they do that? I can't believe that. But the other day, something equally stupid happened that I thought was impossible, so I guess it happens."
She said she had a personal contact at NDOT and would call on my behalf. I told her I'd call NDOT, too, and we'd see who got the quickest answer.
My favorite NDOT receptionist answered the phone. I told her that the people in Henderson wanted nothing to do with this issue. She said she would transfer my call to the man who was the resident engineer for that stretch of freeway. The next thing I heard was a woman's voice on an answering machine.
I was apparently transferred to the wrong number, so I hung up and called the NDOT receptionist back. By now we knew each other's voices. She assured me that the woman's voice I heard was the engineer's personal receptionist.
So this time I listened to the woman's voice mail. At the end, she gave her cell phone number, so I called it, and she picked up.
I asked if she was the receptionist or secretary for the resident engineer. Nope, she wasn't. "I'm an inspector."
But the NDOT receptionist out front said you were a receptionist, too.
"They assume that if you work in an office and you're a female, you must be a receptionist," she said. "That's OK. I make a lot more money than they do."
I asked her if she was busy inspecting a bridge, maybe. Or some barrels.
"No. I'm home sick," she said.
Oh. Sorry to bother you.
Just then, I got a call back from the lady at Henderson City Hall.
She was almost breathless. "NDOT only maintains specific portions of the 215. The part you're calling about is under the jurisdiction of the county," she announced proudly.
She gave me the number to call, and the woman who answered - I don't know if she was a receptionist, or an inspector, or a barrel baron - was very helpful.
She sympathized with me on the barrels. It helps, she said, if you've taken the on-ramp a couple of times so you get used to how the on-ramp traffic is pushed farther over than normal.
I suggested that trial-and-error was a lousy way to promote highway safety.
I said a sign would really help. "Lane Ends" or "Merge Left" or "Prepare to be Squeezed Out of Your Lane and to Strike Either the Car on you Left or the Big Orange Barrels on your Right."
Good idea, she said; I'll mention this to my boss.
I pressed my luck with another complaint:
The barrels are so poorly placed along the slow lane that they almost block the off-ramps.
And she said, "I have that same problem at my off-ramp." (I wonder if she called anyone to complain. I can give her a phone number or two.)
I was on a barrel roll, so I let her have it with a third complaint: If you are driving northbound on Green Valley Parkway, there is no sign indicating the eastbound on-ramp onto the 215. I know several people who have overshot the freeway on-ramp because there was no sign.
She couldn't believe it. But bless her heart, she drove by the on-ramp during her lunch hour and confirmed the lack of a sign. She was dumfounded. So she called me back.
She told me she talked to her boss, and wanted me to know that a subcontractor will put up lane-closure warning signs on the on-ramps that are dangerously bordered by orange barrels, so motorists will be better prepared for the lack of a lane.
The barrels would also be moved closer to the shoulder so motorists won't overshoot off-ramps that are nearly blocked by barrels. (That would make driving safer for me and her.)
And what about the lack of a freeway on-ramp sign?
You need to call the county's traffic operations office, she said. But it's after 3 p.m. so they're closed for the day. Try tomorrow.
I called the next morning. A lady said that if the location in question was in Henderson, I should call Henderson City Hall. (Why does everyone blame poor Henderson?)
I gently suggested to her that freeway signs probably were not a municipal issue. She sighed and put me on hold.
"Let me patch you through to my supervisor," she said.
A traffic safety supervisor got on the phone. I told him about the lack of a freeway on-ramp sign. Hmmm, he said. Hmmmm. (I could visualize him scratching his chin.) We'll take care of that, he said.
I asked him, how could the county not realize that someone forgot to put a sign at the on-ramp? The county learns about missing signs, he said, when people call to complain.
I guess I was the first to complain.
So my civic duty here is done. Citizen Tom, signing off.
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