At the start of the new year, I had a cold. I picked up a pack of pseudoephedrine, 120 milligrams, signing my name in the controlled substances logbook of people who might be meth dealers. Pseudoephedrine, aka Sudafed, constricts blood flow to the nasal passages, reducing the inflammation that causes sinusitis, but for those in the know, it also acts as a speedy little stimulant to help hardworking Americans get back to their day jobs.
My city was also sick, and feeling the need for speed. And so, on January 5, Doctor Kathy Hochul finally gave New York its gogo juice, prescribing a bitter pill known as congestion pricing to clear its clogged passages and stimulate its mass transit system.
My sinuses eventually cleared up, but New York’s decongestant diet had drawn the scrutiny of the country’s self-appointed chief drug enforcement agent. In mid-February, the grim reaper of governance came knocking, bearing a scythe in the form of what was once called a tweet: “CONGESTION PRICING IS DEAD. Manhattan, and all of New York, is SAVED. LONG LIVE…