The Big Dig strikes again.

My Saturday morning commute is supposed to be the antithesis of a commute - stress-free, zippy, averaging about seventy miles an hour from start to finish, getting me from the North Shore to Harvard Square in just a little over thirty minutes. But not today. I should have taken the hint when I saw a big flashing billboard that informed me that the Southbound ramp to I-93 would be closed after crossing the bridge I normally take on my way in. Actually I started to take the hint and opted for a local route, only to opt back for the highway once I found myself stuck behind one too many red lights (little did I know that red lights would be the least of my concerns!). And then as I noticed the helicopters circling over the Lenny Zakim Bridge, I realized to my horror that I was driving straight towards downtown Boston on the day that the final underground link of the Big Dig was scheduled to be opened. The zippy three-lane highway converged down into one viscous line of exhaust and brake lights that was being detoured into the middle of the no man's land between the cities of Boston, Cambridge, and Somerville; and as nine o'clock rapidly approached I raised my clenched fists towards the heavens and damned the Big Dig to Hell. How exactly a construction project designed to benefit the exact opposite half of the Greater Metro Boston area (i.e., the South Shore, whose residents won't even be asked to pass through a tollbooth in order to enjoy this sixteen billion dollar marvel of modern engineering while denizens of the western and northern suburbs watch their bridge and pike tolls skyrocket in order to meet the final cost overruns) should be able to wreak absolute and total havoc on those who don't even get to derive a tangible benefit from it is quite frankly beyond me. But that's Massachusetts traffic for you - I'm sure Ph.D. theses have been earned trying to fathom its mysteries.

Speaking of the Zakim bridge, however, my wife and I were driving home together last night, since I only had to work a truncated shift at the Circ Desk in order to use up what was left of my personal time balance for 2003. It was just after sunset, and as we passed under the bridge we noticed cloud after cloud of what looked like flocks of small birds bobbing and weaving their way between the spans, each smaller flock joining up with the larger mass until it was a huge serpentine mass of black dots against the bluish-purple sky. Maria remarked that the "birds" didn't remind her of birds at all, but of bats. And suddenly I remembered my summer in Austin, Texas, back in 1992. One of that city's signature architectural features is a bridge that was designed to shelter a large population of bats famous for swarming around the lakefront at sunset, an attraction for naturalists and tourists alike. I wonder if the same thing hasn't been done with the Lenny Zakim bridge (either intentionally or unintentionally) - I've tried to get some information about the bridge and any possible bat population, but nothing comes up on the web. Perhaps we're the first to notice? At any rate, it was quite a sight to see!