Mornings are rough. Stop-and go-traffic on I-25 can feel more like a nauseating carnival ride than a highway. It’s no easier in the city. A car just ahead with out-of-state plates slams on its brakes and that cup of morning coffee flies through the air, staining your shirt. The car ahead is now attempting to parallel park, and doing a pretty poor job of it. The minutes tick by until traffic opens up enough to swerve angrily around the parallel parking pariah, narrowly avoiding a pedestrian who decided to walk diagonally across a busy downtown intersection. Arrive at work late, stained, smelling like dark roast and at peak levels of frustration. Time to start the day.