The Official New Yorker’s Guide To Los Angeles

The Commute: “Everywhere in LA takes twenty minutes.”

Famously uttered by Cher’s father in Clueless, this maxim is actually true…during holidays, SXSW, or other “no traffic days,” as they are locally known, when the (primarily) imported population of Los Angeles either returns to their rustic roots, departs for some exotic locale, or weekends in Palm Springs. During the other 330+ days of the year, Los Angeles is a horrible, soul-crushing, traffic nightmare. The crisis is worsened by the appearance of an occasional jogger, who will whiz right by your idling vehicle, as your $5.15/gallon of gasoline evaporates into L.A.’s smoggy skies and Taylor Swift screeches endless breakup songs on the car radio. But don’t envy the sun-kissed runner burning calories. Due to the inevitable road rage of its commuters, Los Angeles has the highest rate of pedestrian casualties in the United States. See that unlit crosswalk stretched across seven lanes of roaring traffic? Think of it as a rotting, wooden bridge above a raging river, except with a higher mortality rate. And don't even think of taking the freeway. [Photo via]