"I-35 Rollover Crisis: A Personal Attack on My Right to Never Be Inconvenienced"

Oh, the horror! The absolute travesty of it all! A box truck had the audacity to roll over on my I-35, and now, heaven forbid, I might have to take the service road like some kind of peasant. Do you know how many Pilates classes I had to reschedule because of this? Three. Three. And don’t even get me started on the audacity of traffic being diverted to Riverside. That’s practically East Austin. I can already smell the artisanal kombucha fumes from here.

Of course, the city’s response is to just… clean up the debris. As if that’s enough. Where’s the immediate helicopter lane for us premium citizens who can’t be bothered with frontage roads? Where’s the VIP bypass for those of us who actually contribute to society (read: pay HOA fees)? And don’t even think about suggesting I take public transportation. I’d rather be seen in last season’s Tory Burch.

But no, instead, we’re all just supposed to wait while some poor city worker picks up the shattered remains of whatever essential cargo was in that truck (probably more of those dreadful food truck ingredients). Meanwhile, my latte is getting cold, and my Tesla’s autopilot is having an existential crisis trying to navigate this chaos.

And let’s talk about the real victim here: me. Do you know how many emails I had to send to the city manager about this? Four. Four. And still no personalized apology. The sheer disrespect. Next thing you know, they’ll expect me to share the road with cyclists. The horror. The absolute horror.