Every Houseplant in My Apartment Is Now Named After a Traffic Incident, and My Plant-Sitter Deserves a Raise
Photo: Rashid Jorvee, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Here's a fun fact about me: I own eleven houseplants and zero ability to name anything. When I got a dog as a kid, I named him 'Dog.' My fantasy football team is called 'Team.' So when my pothos collection started outgrowing its pots and my therapist suggested I 'form a deeper connection' with my hobbies, I decided to outsource the emotional labor entirely.
The source I chose? The 6:40 a.m. traffic report on KTLA-adjacent local radio, delivered by a man named Gary who sounds like he's been awake since 1997.
The Rules of the Road (Literally)
The system was simple: every new plant gets named after whatever incident Gary reports on the morning I bring it home. No exceptions. No vetoes. If Gary says there's a disabled vehicle blocking the carpool lane, that's the plant's name now. I don't make the rules. Gary does.
Week one produced 'Accident on Route 9,' a pothos with the resilience of an actual highway crash scene — it survived my neglect, my overwatering panic, and one incident involving a ceiling fan. Week two gave us 'Standstill on the 405,' a succulent that has not grown a single millimeter since March, which frankly is the most accurate naming of the entire experiment.
Then came 'Sig Alert the Fern.' A Sig Alert, for those lucky enough to live somewhere with functioning infrastructure, is a California-specific traffic emergency designation. My fern has been dropping leaves at an alarming rate, so the name tracks on an emotional level.
The Friends and Family Phase
I introduced the collection to my friend Dana, a serious gardener with a greenhouse and a Master Gardener certification, and watched her soul leave her body.
"This one is 'Delays on the 110,'" I said, gesturing at a snake plant.
"Why," she said. Not a question. A statement.
"Because there were delays on the 110."
Dana has not been back since, which I consider a cost of doing business.
My mother called mid-experiment. I told her I was watering 'Expect Delays Near the Airport.' She suggested, gently, that I might be lonely. I told her the plant was thriving. She changed the subject to my cousin's engagement.
Enter the Plant-Sitter
The true stress test came when I left for a long weekend and handed my keys to my neighbor, Tom, a retired HVAC technician who takes all commitments extremely seriously.
I left him a care schedule. It read, in part:
- Monday: Water 'Sig Alert the Fern' (2 oz, mist leaves)
- Tuesday: Rotate 'Standstill on the 405' toward window
- Wednesday: Check soil on 'Expect Delays Near the Airport'
Tom texted me at 7 a.m. the first day: "Who is Sig Alert and why is there a fern involved. Are you okay."
I explained the system. He responded with a single thumbs-up emoji, the universal symbol of a man who has decided some mysteries are not worth solving. To his eternal credit, he followed the schedule to the letter. Every plant came home alive. Tom now refers to the collection as "the traffic situation" and I've never loved a neighbor more.
Unexpected Benefits of Traffic-Based Botany
Here's what nobody tells you: naming plants after road incidents creates accountability. When 'Accident on Route 9' started looking droopy, I couldn't just ignore it. You don't leave a man named 'Accident on Route 9' on read. That plant has been through enough.
Also, it's a phenomenal conversation starter. Every dinner guest now gets the full tour, complete with Gary impressions. My buddy Ray laughed so hard at 'Cleared: Earlier Stall on the 10' (a peace lily, ironically thriving) that he knocked over 'Sig Alert the Fern,' which has now experienced an actual accident, completing some kind of naming circle of life.
The Verdict
After three months, the experiment has a 100% survival rate, which is better than my track record under the previous regime of names like 'Plant 1' and 'The Other One.' Whether that's due to Gary's accidental poetry or the sheer absurdity of telling a fern its name every morning, science may never know.
The collection's newest member, adopted last Tuesday, is named 'Multi-Car Collision, All Lanes Blocked.' It's a cactus. It's doing great. Gary would be proud.
Would I recommend this system? Absolutely. Your plants get names, your friends get stories, and your plant-sitter gets a small glimpse into the beautiful chaos of your mind. Just be warned: somewhere out there, a pothos named 'Accident on Route 9' is thriving, and it's all Gary's fault.