Driving home from the World Cup in New Jersey rush-hour traffic was a stunning experience, to say the least. It was a career first for me, having covered sports in the state for nearly three decades. I was tasked with chronicling my trip home from the match in the Meadowlands, and my editor's advice was both practical and humorous: bring a diaper. This was the perfect storm for New Jersey's first time hosting the World Cup in 34 years. France, a popular world power, was playing upstart Senegal, and the game's timing couldn't have been worse for the state's traffic woes.
The transportation issues had dominated headlines for months, and the first game in East Rutherford was a disaster, with fans stranded in the ride-share lot for hours. I had a similar experience, spending two hours and 45 minutes on a 10-mile trip, with a series of unfortunate events, from missing shuttle buses to canceled Ubers. It was a chaotic scene, and I felt like I was reliving a Jets preseason game.
This time, I had a parking pass, but the dire warnings of snarled traffic still loomed. The game ended at 5:07 p.m., and thousands of fans missed Kylian Mbappe's second goal due to early departures. I made it out of the stadium at 5:15 p.m., and what I saw in Lot M was a stark contrast to the bustling scene inside.
Empty parking spots were everywhere, a stark reminder that the World Cup is a different beast from NFL games or Taylor Swift concerts. FIFA's parking restrictions for security reasons have made the event a logistical challenge. Driving to the Meadowlands has always been the primary mode of transportation, and traffic patterns were predicted to be well-planned, but the reality was quite different.
Tailgating, a usual part of the experience, was prohibited for the World Cup, and even the birds seemed to work from home. I was back in my car at 5:26 p.m. with my photographer, and our journey home was a test of patience. The GPS predicted an impossible ETA of six minutes, but we managed to navigate the traffic, merging onto Route 3 West in record time.
The traffic we encountered was light by New Jersey standards, but it was heading in the opposite direction. NJ Transit's trains ran smoothly, but the American Dream lots resembled the early stages of a Zombie Apocalypse. With 80,545 people at the game, the only certain ways to get home without traffic were a state police helicopter or walking, and sometimes, you get stuck.
I was incredibly lucky, spending only 25 minutes on the 10-mile trip. Instead of being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I walked through the front door to a welcoming dinner, greeted by my teenage son's question: 'What's for dinner?' It was a refreshing change from the usual post-game traffic nightmare, and a reminder that sometimes, you just get lucky.
