After being holed up in our houses throughout the most brutal winter since ’76 and raking an accumulated 20 inches of snow off our roofs, there finally came the first sign of spring. To celebrate, I hopped in the car, rolled down the windows and pulled into the nearest shopping plaza—only to be stuck behind a hundred cars, all vying for a spot next to the handicapped zone.
I call this one “Spring fever, only in America.”