ON TRAFFIC
It’s been too long, and I’m not finding the time for a longer post these days. So in the meantime, here are just a few of the questions that come to mind while walking down the streets (or riding a subway through the greasy intestines) of New York:
Q: I like to wear AirPods and watch The Mindy Project while walking down some of the busiest streets in America. Should I weave in a discernible pattern, or stagger my steps randomly?
A: I vote for random, and as herky-jerky as possible. People don’t have enough excitement and unpredictability in their lives and who knows—you might finally meet that someone special!
Thanks. I have just one follow-up: Should I turn my head and look or do anything that might give me any indication as to what’s going on around me before stepping into traffic and crossing the street?
A: Now why on earth would you do that?
Q: I’m 72, an avid cyclist, and enjoy sticking the nose of my bike into crossing traffic when they have the green light. Is a helmet REALLY necessary?
A: It’s only going to needlessly protect the one non-functioning part of your geriatric backside. By the way, love the high-visibility vest. Is that so the cars have a better vision of what they’re trying to hit? Are you doing this on purpose? I’ve brought my bicycle onto the hood of a car with me before and trust me, you do not want to go out like that.
Q: Sometimes I’m walking down the sidewalk, totally minding my business, and a person coming the other way just starts walking towards me, until I have to move in a somewhat drastic fashion to avoid hitting them. It’s like I’m magnetic. And it’s happening all the time, multiple times a day. What is going on? Am I crazy?
A: You’re not crazy. But you are also not magnetic. That WOULD be insane, That would mean that the people walking toward you are made of iron or steel, instead of some other much lighter metal.
There does seem to be a slightly confrontational nature to walking around here sometimes. It’s like people—already short on space—are trying to claim a portion of the sidewalk, and if they’ve already got a stretch then they’re eager to take yours. I can’t explain it. But I have found that if I start growling, they tend to back away.
Q: Is that, like, the 17th time we’ve heard “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough” today?
A: Official song of NYC, baby! I get that sometimes great art comes from terrible monsters, and that it can be hard to stop appreciating that art. But it’s like the entire city is thumbing its nose at the idea that Michael Jackson’s bio needs a little bit of a rewrite. Moving on…
Q: Those motor scooters everyone’s so wild about look downright scary. Maybe we shouldn’t ride them.
Not a question, but you’re right. Let’s walk. Only I’m going to be on my phone, watching The Mindy Project, so you’re going to need to be on the lookout for all the motorized Schwinn mountainbikes jumping the curb and careening our way. They belong to food delivery people, and those people do not give one single shit about human life—not theirs, and certainly not ours.
Q: I feel like we’re being tucked inside someone’s armpit down here. Why is it so freaking hot in this subway?
A: Oh, it’s not just this one—it’s all of ‘em. But here’s the thing: it’s actually a city-wide humanitarian effort. We all pitch in a couple bucks a month to pay the heating bill to keep these underground passages warm enough so that the gators who live down here are at the optimal temperature for moving around and procreating. New York’s transit authority is actually responsible for the world’s most successful large reptile breeding program. You’re welcome, America.
Q: This train is too crowded. We’re going to have to stand, and I’m worried I’ll fall into someone. What do I hold on to?
A: If you’re tall enough, the ceiling. It’s the only thing that hasn’t been held/leaned on/licked by at least 3000 people already today. If you’re not, I recommend holding onto any of the rails with your right hand, and a bottle of hand sanitizer with your left.
You know what? Here: Just wrap an arm around me. I’ve got us.
This hand was already dirty anyway.
Ask a Stray Dad 