Collier County Discovers Roads Don’t Expand by Osmosis, Residents Shocked
Collier County Discovers Roads Don’t Expand by Osmosis, Residents Shocked
COLLIER COUNTY, FL — In a turn of events that has absolutely no one outside the county government gasping in surprise, Collier County officials have finally realized that building neighborhoods faster than roads can handle might… just maybe… be a problem.
“Yes, we were under the impression that traffic would just politely move aside for new residents,” said one county planner, speaking under the condition of anonymity because, frankly, shame is very real. “Apparently, people don’t appreciate waiting 45 minutes to drive two miles. Who knew?”
The county, famous for approving developments faster than a kid finishing a drive-thru milkshake, now finds itself in an uncomfortable truth: roads require planning, maintenance, and, most scandalously, money.
“I used to drive to Naples in 20 minutes,” said local resident Greg Thompson, holding a thermos of coffee and a copy of War and Peace for the long commute. “Now, I’ve taken up podcasting, meditation, and minor carpentry while stuck at the same traffic light.”
Developers, however, remain optimistically delusional. “We’re proposing a 500-unit condo right next to a two-lane road,” said one, smiling as if this solves everything. “It’s fine. Traffic is just a state of mind.”
In response to the crisis, county officials have unveiled an ambitious plan: more studies. “We’re going to analyze traffic patterns, growth projections, and possibly the alignment of the stars,” explained a spokesperson. “Solutions may arrive sometime after 2030, depending on funding.”
Meanwhile, locals have begun the innovative practice of “commute camping,” setting up lawn chairs, tents, and even portable grills at notoriously congested intersections. “It’s community building,” said Thompson, adjusting his sunhat. “And if we run out of snacks, we’ve got plenty of time to order delivery.”
As Collier County continues to pretend it didn’t see this coming, the roads remain proud monuments to human optimism—crowded, slow, and entirely unwilling to grow at the same pace as the county’s housing developments.