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Commentary A rundown of San Diego By April Labine-Katko December 19, 2005 San Diego--As a pedestrian in San Diego, you live from one precarious moment to the next, at the mercy of the unpredictable driver. The wheel hugger sees your presence as a nuisance, and it is well within his or her rights to step on the gas and knock you out of your headphones. The pedestrian must accept this as part of the gamble when entering the driver’s universe of asphalt and steel. That’s the chance a local old-timer took last month when he chose to defy all reason, and smugly waited at a bus stop. In his pedestrian arrogance, he was mowed down by a machine more superior than he.
(Illustration: Chris Katko) But, it has recently come to my attention that you need not be a pedestrian to be at risk. You don’t even have to be near a street to fall prey to the vengeful driver. Only sit in the comfort of your own home watching Jeopardy and drinking Diet Coke and they will find you and take you down. Wisely, the inhabitants of a San Carlos household had the presence of mind to be absent when a distracted driver decided that their porch made a convenient parking space. Remember, your house is not off limits when the woes of drivers are concerned. But, the truly treacherous territory is out there amongst them. I think it was the morning that two cars attempted to grind me into burger that really got me thinking. Then, when a third decided to take me down the following day, I really started to take things personally. I realized I would have to be a defensive walker. It was evident that a pedestrian with the green light, the right-of-way and a crosswalk is of little consequence to the driver. These things are only more nuisances that they associate with us, the enemy. When I am given the opportunity to cross the road, I first eye my challenger suspiciously, attempting to read his thoughts. If he, too, makes eye contact, I can be fairly certain he sees me and understands my intentions. I attempt to mesmerize him with a voodoo stare before stepping cautiously onto the street. If necessary, I light a flare and toss it into the roadway beforehand as a warning of my approach. They seem to appreciate the extra effort, often pausing in their cell phone conversations to give me a nod of approval. The pact has been made and I can proceed as planned. True, it is still perilous trusting the driver to keep his end of the bargain, but it is a risk I must take. And I observe my enemy closely at all times in an effort to better understand what motivates his actions. I’ve noticed that unless the driver is a man licking his chops and ogling you like the hungry hunter eyes Bambi, chances are he hasn’t seen you. Usually a woman behind the wheel is preoccupied and cannot be troubled to watch the road. Always the multi-tasker, they are busily talking on a phone, putting on mascara and changing a dirty diaper, all while searching for their favorite song on the CD player. The pedestrian must always remember that the driver has only one thing on his mind - himself. As important as it may be for you to get through your day without first having to be pried out of his engine, the driver’s day is much more important. That is why he has a car in the first place. That is why he loves his car more than he loves his mother. Mom only carried him for nine months, but his car has been doing it for almost a decade. So, I feel that it is time to take up the task of informing the driver that beyond their bulky, metal weaponry on wheels, there is a land full of living, breathing creatures. This isn’t “Grand Theft Auto.” I am not a target. Out there, there are children and dogs and cats. There are people on scooters, skateboards and bicycles. There are even those, like myself, who rely on those primitive devices I like to call legs. They are my preferred method of transport because I know they are always on time, they do not ask for a fare and using them never means having to sit beside a sweaty goon who may very well have just soiled himself. It means I never have to agonize over gas prices and repairs and rarely do my friends ever try to bum a piggyback ride. When I leave my apartment in the morning, I know that no one has stolen my transportation from the parking lot, even without the assurance of “The Club” security device. So, drivers be kind. We know that you would go homeless before giving up your wheels. You love the freedom of the open road. But, we pedestrians love the freedom of a life without vehicular trappings and we’re out there, counting on you to give us 30 seconds to cross the street. ----------------- Born and raised in a Northern Ontario mining town, April's hockey career was cut short when it was evident that she could not skate. It has been downhill ever since. Suggested Vyuz reading... Happy inoffensive, politically correct, multi-cultural holidays! | By April Labine-Katko Traveling fine art exhibit hits southern U.S. border | By April Labine-Katko Village Voice plus New Times equals no alternative | By April Labine-Katko Mother knows best | By April Labine-Katko Delete the deleters | By April Labine-Katko At Balboa Park, security protects public from dogs being dogs | By April Labine-Katko A serial networker walks among us | By April Labine-Katko Confessions of an ex-troll | By April Labine-Katko |
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