Well, that and the apartment building’s fine collection of vagina art, but that’s a whole other blog post entirely.
I had a pretty lengthy commute when I lived in Buffalo — a forty-five minute drive each way. I kind of hate driving and really kind of hate other people driving, so most of my commute was spent swearing at swerving drivers and texting drivers and ALL THE DRIVERS! I HATE YOU ALL! DIE, DIE, DIE!I imagined my new walking commute would involve a lot less swearing and thoughts of murder and a lot more sunshine and fresh air and possibly some skipping.
Sadly, this is not the case. You see, my road rage has just been replaced with sidewalk rage.
But instead of swearing at people from the insulated, sound-proof safety of my car, I swear at people from the sidewalk.
Which means that people could potentially hear me.
Which also means that at any given point I may end up getting arrested for crazy, disorderly, sidewalk-yelling.It hasn’t always been this way.
I really liked my walking commute in the beginning.
And then it started to snow. A LOT.
Mind you, my problem is not the snow itself. Sure, it’s cold and slippery. But, it’s snow, you guys. That’s what snow does.
My problem is the people.
Basically, well, how-do-I-put-this-so-I-don’t-sound-like-a-total-psycho, I HATE ALL THE PEOPLE.
I hate all the people who don’t shovel the sidewalks in front of their homes or businesses or big huge massive churches. (I’m looking at you, Mormon Church on the corner of my street. I’m looking at you.)
I hate all the people who drive by me super fast, spraying sludge all over me and my work clothes, as I’m trudging along the side of the road because I can’t walk on the sidewalk because the sidewalk is now covered in three feet of snow WHICH SOME JERKHOLE IS TOO LAZY TO SHOVEL.
I hate all the people who stop their cars in the middle of the crosswalk even though it’s called a crossWALK and not a crossSTOPYOURCARRIGHTHERE.
I even hate the people who stop their cars in the middle of the crosswalk, and then they see me walking, and they realize they’re in the middle of the crosswalk, so they back up their cars all apologetic-like so I can walk through. I know they have realized the error of their ways, but I still hate them.The only people I don’t hate are my fellow pedestrians.
Yesterday, as I was walking home from work, I shared disgruntled comments and eye-rolls with the people walking in front of me over the disastrous state of the sidewalks. One guy struck up a conversation with me as we slipped along the sludgy side of the street. And another guy cheerfully told me to “Walk safe” as he walked by me.
The cockles of my rage-filled heart were warmed by the sudden sense of solidarity I felt for my fellow walkers.
We may be few and far between and covered in sludge.
But we are scrappy and resilient and have really strong calf muscles.
And, yes, we are screaming at you from the crosswalk because IT’S CALLED A CROSSWALK FOR A REASON, YOU JERKHOLE!Have you ever experienced pedestrian rage? How do you cope when you want to KILL ALL THE PEOPLE? (P.S. Police, I don’t really mean I want to kill all the people. I’m speaking figuratively here. Please don’t arrest me.)