Friday, September 22, 2006

Stop Smelling the Flowers

Sometimes I wonder if it's just me. Most people don't seem to spend much time walking anymore, so I'm not sure anyone else considers it, but sometimes I find myself wondering what the proper etiquette is when walking down the sidewalk behind someone that's slower than you.

I used to just pass them. You know, move over to the left side of the sidewalk, use the accelerator, and swerve past them before the oncoming traffic gets too near. But a couple of times I think I nearly gave someone a heart attack. They must not be used to having pedestrians sharing their sidewalks, for they were pretty surprized to see someone else not on the road.

I've debated giving warnings, but I always think I'd look silly walking down the sidewalk shouting at people in front of me. And looking silly is important to me. I just don't want to do so in quite so vocal a way.

I have discovered the preferred way of warning another pedestrian of my presence. It works well. I need new shoes. Walking up behind them, all I have to do is start dragging my feet. Stop walking so silently. Just make a few quiet 'walking' noises. If they don't appear to notice, scuff a bit more. By the time I've made it to them, they know I'm coming, they move over, and I can cease killing my shoes and go back into silent-running mode. Although it's really quite sad I can't actually run silently.

Yes, I know how to let people know when I'm coming. I'm not sure if anyone else does this though; everyone else I see on the sidewalk seems to be an old lady that hasn't a chance of passing me, and thus doesn't need to warn me of her coming.

Unless I've stopped to smell the flowers. But most of the flowers on the way to work smell like wet dog. I speed up, I certainly don't stop to smell them.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Mr. Universe

I have proof now. Not that I can show anyone, but I am certain, positive, and absolutely sure that the world revolves around me. I've suspected it for years, but never wanted to really admit that I was quite that massive.

But now I have proof. I can no longer deny it. The world is my oyster, and I am the center of everything.

I was walking to work today, like I normally do. I stopped at the traffic light, like I normally do. But the traffic light was certainly not normal. Blinking red, it had lots of workers scrambling to get it going again. I walked up to the curb, and as I started to wait, the walk in my direction turned on.

I never pushed the button.

The lights changed from blinking red to actual working lights. So, I crossed the street. Like I normally do. And I laughed at the traffic behind me as the workers scrambled to get the lights working properly once I'd completed my crossing.

The world revolves around me.

Someone should have told the guy directing traffic over the weekend, though. The first night when I had to fight traffic leaving the concert was ok; I got to a corner where I wanted to turn, the guy stopped all of the traffic in my way and let me through. The second night, though, was no good. One worker told me that I could simply cut through the traffic again. (He'd apparently received the memo.) But the worker that was supposed to stop the traffic refused. Instead, he directed me to simply follow the concert traffic and get stuck in the jam for half an hour. He most certainly did not get the memo. I'll have to figure out who I need to talk to about that.