By BILLY MURPHY
Laugh Lines

New York City and Los Angeles dance the tango when it comes to garnering national headlines for every important issue known to man. From business to media to entertainment, N.Y.C. and L.A., always lead the pack.

It seems cities like Atlanta, Dallas, Chicago, Philadelphia, to mention a few, can only stand by the punch bowl waiting to cut in on what seems to be New York's and Los Angeles' never-ending prom of attention.

Atlanta, though, has breached all manner of decorum and joined these two cities to make up what could be considered the menage-a-trois of nightmare travel—super-city traffic.

I travel a lot with my work and have driven in most major cities. And over the years, I have noticed that Atlanta has risen above the beltways and the parkways to complete the missing piece in the triad of cities with nightmare driving conditions. When it comes to driving and traffic, Atlanta has joined New York City and Los Angeles as home to one of the most congested, frustrating, time-consuming commutes known to man.

There are countless similarities to driving in N.Y., Atlanta and L.A. It's always slow down, speed up, look to change lanes. Slow down, speed up, look to change lanes. It's the lather, rinse, repeat of the transportation world.

In all three cities you see the same people driving: The girl trying to drink coffee from the lidded Styrofoam cup, the guy trying to read the paper while maneuvering in traffic, the glamorous ditz trying to put on makeup in the rearview mirror (in Los Angeles, usually a man).

In all three cities you see the same sights while stuck in traffic: Tall buildings that jut beyond your view, “Slow Men Working” signs put out right at rush hour, roadside shoulders strewn with mattresses, furniture and various other lifeless debris (in New York, usually a man).

One foundation unites these three cities head and shoulders above all others. It's attitude. In Atlanta, New York City and Los Angeles, it's the disposition of the driver that warrants segregation from other major cities.

It only takes one instance to realize the difference, like the Roswell woman in the SUV who can make an obscene gesture with the same hand that holds her cell phone. And this is the true icon of city driving anyway, the infamous “finger,” the bird, the one-way arrow that runs north, what I call “the arthritic's peace sign.” You may think the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C., houses the culture of our nation, but you haven't seen art until a New York taxi driver, has flicked you off to the rhythm of Turkish disco, while filling out his immigration papers.

Minnesota may think they have “tough” now that their governor is a former pro wrestler, but if I went to war, I am going to choose the Los Angeles mother of five who can bring a double tandem trucker to tears with her '76 Ford Pinto. It's all attitude.

Though alike in major ways, there are still enough dissimilarities to give each of these cities it's own special brand of driving experience. As an example, could you match these popular foods with drivers from Atlanta, New York and Los Angeles: bagel, sushi gyro, Big Mac? Or how about weapon under the seat: brass knuckles, pistol, Hank Aaron Louisville Slugger. Bumper sticker: “In case of earthquake follow me,” “Follow me and die,” “Follow me to First Baptist Church.”

Yes, Atlanta has made the big three when it comes to super-city driving, and it only takes a few descriptive words to understand why. Though we don't have the abusive cabbies of New York or the heated road rage of Los Angeles, we have something neither of those can lay claim to — the Buckhead pedestrian.

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