Taking it to the streets

People people people. Ugh.

So, the four of you out there who read this thing are all well aware that I have no car and walk all over the place, having lost whatever passion for public transit that may have existed as a wide-eyed virginal urban naïf. Defending my personal space against aggressive little old ladies who feign an ignorance of spoken English; putting up with punks dropping half-eaten fastfood in the inaccessible space between the back of the seat and the heater to spoil instead of you know, using a garbage can; sitting next to someone clipping their fingernails; trying to promptly if not altogether politely evacuate the rear of the bus because the overpowering stench of the homeless guy who just boarded; grabbing hold of the rail to find it sticky; watching people sneeze into their hand and grab hold of the rail; wondering if the person who just sat behind me is wearing a dust mask for their own protection... or for mine; countless such experiences have made taking the bus a dire-necessity-only activity.

So I walk places. Like to and from work every day. An opportunity for fresh air, physical activity, the opportunity to de-stress after a long day or mentally gear up for the next. The problem being now even that is losing its appeal and it's all I can do to maintain my calm with people trying my patience at every turn.

Forget the road rage, folks, I think I may be succumbing to sidewalk rage. One of these days, rather than just kicking the fender of the car that cuts me off or huffily saying "excuse me" but totally meaning "excuse you," I may just start tossing people aside and into the traffic that is failing to signal their careening turns and running the red lights.

-- First you have the wanderers - the pedestrians who are incapable of walking a predictable or straight path and who veer to the left just as you try to pass on the left, or list to the right just as you try to sneek past them to the right.
-- There are the gangs of people who walk 3 or 4 abreast, effectively blocking any attempt at passing short of stepping off the curb or plowing through.
-- Also the crazy arm swingers from whom you must keep a healthy distance lest you get whacked in thigh or somewhere considerably more awkward. These people are related to the umbrella swingers who obliviously dent your innocent shins should you approach from behind.
-- There are the folks who stop short in the middle of the sidewalk to tie a shoe, ponder directions, yap on the phone, or search through their purse, with no warning and without any awareness of the other people sharing the sidewalk about to trip over them or run smack into them with a full cup of steaming coffee and a white shirt.
-- Don't forget the women with the ridiculously loud heels that need reshod because they're clomping down the sidewalk behind you like a clydesdale.
-- Or the expectorating epidemic that seems to be spreading as young and old of all ethnicities hawk up loogies and spit right there on the sidewalk in a big wet splat that only narrowly misses your shoe.

I think it's time to find My Side of the Mountain because I'm clearly not cut out to be around people at all.