I think I know what I’m doing, alright? I’ve been walking unassisted since I was three years old, and I’ve been doing it in public since I was eleven. You think that after doing something for fifteen years I would still be bad at it? I can walk about like the best of them. I can do it while chewing gum, while listening to music, while talking on the phone. I can even do it while putting on a sweater. I, for one, am very confident in my walking abilities, so why would I need to give it that much attention?
I don’t understand why people can’t be proud of my accomplishments. I walk wherever I want whenever I want, and I have yet to sustain any major injuries. Everyone always wants a big old “Congratulations” for all that they’ve done. “Oh, I just released a record,” “Oh, I just got accepted to Harvard Law,” “Oh, I just had septuplets”…no one’s ever acknowledging my accomplishments. This is all I got; I haven’t accomplished anything else.
Also, isn’t it supposed to be cool to have a carefree attitude? To be a rebel, to question authority? Maybe the flashing orange hand shouldn’t be some concrete rule. Maybe it shouldn’t even be a suggestion. People already agree that, if there are no cars on the road, then there’s no point standing there waiting for the lights to change. So they just walk. But why not take it one step further? The point is: it’s a flashing orange hand of oppression. I’m not going to let flashing lights tell me how I should move my feet (unless I’m in a nightclub, thank you very much).
Okay, to be honest, I haven’t thought about this that hard until people started asking me why I’m okay with running out in front of cars “like a dog.” I don’t go out walking with that many people, but I didn’t know it would make people so nervous for me to jaywalk at night on a busy street without looking both ways. And it was easier on my self-esteem to come up with crazy rationalizations than to adjust my conduct, so that’s what I did. “Left then right then left,” they say. “Didn’t you learn that in school?” Forget looking to the sides. I have my own vision. I’m always looking forward.
The one thing that seems to get people the most is this: the red light’s about to change. A lot of eager drivers waiting to get to work (this is my favorite time to walk: rush hour), or hoping to get their kids to daycare, or not to be late for their doctor’s appointment…you know, important stuff. And then, wait for it–the millisecond before it turns green, my foot hits the pavement, and I cross the street. They have to yield to me while the system tells them to go. You got to admit: that’s pretty subversive. Hopefully by the time I cross, the light turns red again, but, whatever, I’m not picky. I used to just do it without mulling over the consequences, but now that friends of mine have called attention to it, it’s become kind of a thrill for me. The looks on those people’s faces. Just…the anger, you know? Besides, drivers get mad at “obnoxious” pedestrians, pedestrians get mad at obnoxious drivers, and guess what? People switch roles all the time. One minute you’re mad at a pedestrian; next minute, you are that pedestrian. I’m just trying to show the world its own hypocrisy.
All I have to say is, good thing my mother doesn’t see this. She would probably have a heart attack if she saw how many buses I’ve managed to grind to a halt, or how many cabs lay on their horns until I’m done pretending to hail them and jump right in front of them. On the other hand, maybe if I explain my reasoning to her, she might approve. She might even be proud of me. I don’t really know what she’ll think of anything I say or do, what with her dementia. My father, though, bless his heart, he encourages it like there’s no tomorrow. He’s an auto insurance salesman, so I guess that makes sense.
