I’m stuck in Nashville traffic. And so, apparently, is everyone else in the Western Hemisphere.

The main culprit here is the highways. Nashville’s highway system is a mess because these roads were built to accommodate approximately 11 cars, whereas there are currently 229 trillion Nashville residents.

So this is a problem. A big one. Because right now I am idling in a thousand-mile line of cars, stuck in a cloud of blue exhaust, and we are moving approximately one nanometer per hour.

I think I’ve figured out the problem here. The problem is, everyone is trying to use the interstate at the same time. Which is bad.

This is just common sense. If everyone in the world tried to take a shower at the same time each morning, the world would run out of water. It’s the same principle. A plus B equals C.

But the traffic problem isn’t getting any better. Because nobody is doing anything about it except buying more electric cars.

Tennessee Department of Transportation reports that, on any average afternoon in Davidson County, there are strings of electric cars longer than the ladies-restroom line at a Taylor Swift concert.

“The traffic is really difficult,” says a friend who commutes in Nashville traffic every day. Each morning, he spends 120 minutes in his SUV, fighting hundreds of motorists just backing out of his driveway.

He wants a new job, but of course, there are no new jobs in Nashville, only new buildings.

Nashville is one of the leading cites for adding new real estate. In the time it’s taken you to read these paragraphs, Nashville has already built two arenas and one NASCAR súper-speedway.

The skyline changes almost daily.Things have gotten so bad construction-wise that as soon as one new structure is built, demolition crews arrive to tear it down so they can begin erecting a new Starbucks in its place.

This town’s slogan should be “Boom!” Because that’s the main noise you hear.

Then you have the bachelorette parties. Bachelorettes are huge business in Nashville.

“Nashville is one giant bachelorette party,” said a policeman on the sidewalk. “Once, I walked into a restaurant responding to a call, and the hostess asked if I was the dancer for the McWilliams party.”

It’s true. Bachelorette parties are pretty annoying.But in my opinion, they aren’t nearly as worrisome as the pedal tavern (sometimes called “pedal pubs,” “party bikes,” or “concussion machines”).

A pedal tavern is a multi-passenger human powered vehicle. Like a giant bicycle. There’s no engine, just the legs of passengers who all sit around a bar, facing each other, singing “Sweet Caroline” and tossing back vodka gimlets.

A pedal tavern’s top speed is about the same speed as a municipal fire hydrant. You can see throngs of them blocking traffic downtown.

Usually the taverns come loaded with about 20 screaming people. If it’s a bachelorette party, they will all be wearing tiaras. Oftentimes, they will be howling swear words at passing vehicles while sloshing beer onto nearby peace officers who are busy writing parking tickets to redheaded columnists.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Nashville. This city is young, hip, exciting, and the music is pretty good. But none of these things I like are the “real Nashville,” according to my sources.

“If you want to experience the real Nashville,” one city official told me, “just hop on I-24, I40, I-65, or 440. That’s where everyone in Nashville lives most of their lives anyway.”