Justification to Rename This Blog "We Walk Faster Than You"

It's been awhile since I posted.  Please allow me to recap what's been going on in my absence:

I got married.

That's pretty much it.  One might say, "Holy shit, Dude!  Congratulations!" or, "How's married life?" or even, "Pffft.  Ain't no excuse to not keep bloggin'."  To which I would say, "Thanks!", "The same, except now I have in-laws", and "You're right", respectively.

The week of the wedding, we rented a Mustang.  Traditionally, I have been the driver in our relationship, regardless of transmission type, country or natural setting.  It's just one of those things upon which we seem to have agreed at an early stage in our relationship.  Up until this past September, there had been only one exception:  New York City.

Now, I've driven from the Northern tip of New Zealand to the far South, in a manual transmission, on the LEFT-hand side of the road, but there has always been something about driving in New York that terrified me, so we would always pull over onto the shoulder somewhere just shy of the Lincoln Tunnel or the GWB and my Bride would take over.  This all came to an end a few months ago.

I decided, if I was going to man up and put a ring on this lady's finger, I needed to man up and learn how to drive in NYC, as well.  So over the course of that month, as we shuttled around town in our Mustang, I learned two important things about driving in The Big Apple, that you may either take as your own, or ignore.  It's entirely up to you:

1. "NYC Taxi Drivers" shall henceforth be allowed to join dogs, sharks and bees on a list of "Things That Can Smell Fear".
2. Driving on the Goethals Bridge is just as (if not more) distasteful than pronouncing it's name.

Happy New Year, Everybody.  My New Year's Resolution this year will end up being one of two things; either relax on my commute more (and therefore blog less), or blog more (and therefore relax less).  Either way, you'll be kept posted.

Forever Alone

"How is it possible," you ask, "that this blogger can bitch and whine as much as he does about driving etiquette, rules for bicyclists and subway riders, and still jaywalk?  Should he also be calling out himself, for breaking the rules of the road, for flagrantly ignoring the safety of himself and others?  How can he possibly justify this critical judgement of others and still blatantly commute in a way that is frowned upon (and for good reason)??"

Because it's my blog.  And the internet is a playground.

Yesterday, I was happily crossing Ditmars Blvd. mid-block.  I didn't have headphones on, and I looked both ways multiple times before crossing.  I recognize the hypocrisy of this, considering I am so judgemental of other people obeying the rules set out for them, and I break mine.  I suppose one difference is that if a car or a bike doesn't stop at the red light designed for them, and they barrel into someone due to their own carelessness, someone could be seriously hurt.  If *I* carelessly cross against the signal, and barrel into someone, the only repercussion *I* risk is embarrassing myself and mildly disappointing someone else.  And that's pretty much the story of my life, so I think I'll manage.

But I digress...

So I was crossing Ditmars yesterday, and a car turned onto the Boulevard towards me.  Once it righted itself from the turn, the guy gunned it, presumably to make it through the next light (or, perhaps to convey to me, "My car zooms fast!!").  I thought to myself, as I always do when this happens, "Jeez, where's the fire, Man?"

So I continued my saunter (I don't saunter.  My version of sauntering is still faster than the normal walk.) down the Boulevard.  A crosswalk or two later, I was halfway across the street when someone else turned onto the street I was crossing, apparently deciding there was enough room for their car to fit in between the parked car on the right and the random pedestrian in the middle of the street.

Whatever.  She, just like the guy before, gunned the engine after righting herself from the turn, and hurried her little driving self towards 21st Ave.

And I thought to myself:  How funny would it be if both drivers were in a rush to get to the same place?  What if they were racing each other, or going to a concert with a very specific start time?  My theory then became that they were going to an awesome party.  Someone, somewhere, was throwing a party for all the drivers in Astoria.  Clearly someone with a very long driveway or a parking lot.  They invited all of the people who drive cars, and had free appetizers and an open bar until 7pm.  As it turns out, I was walking at about 6:45, so, with this fantasy in mind, I could totally understand why someone would rush to take advantage of the last few free drinks before the bar starts charging.

As I strolled (I don't stroll.  My version of strolling is still faster than the normal walk.), I took this even further.  What if they, the two drivers who had each gone out of their way TO get too close to me, this man and this woman, were destined to meet?  What if, by showing up at this party on time, near sunset, with alcohol and pigs-in-a-blanket a'plenty, these two were to look at each other from across the room and hold the gaze just long enough to smile slyly?  What if, by the end of the evening, they ended up sitting in one or the other's car, talking about past loves, fate and the wealth of compassion?  What if, after that night, they end up spending the rest of their lives together, having fallen so deeply in love, that life moves more slowly, more leisurely, and the need to press down hard on the gas pedal is eliminated?

The thought made me smile.  But then it made me sad.  I began to realize that I would never be invited to that kind of party.  And I realized why:  because I'm a snarky, hypocritical jaywalking blogger who would ultimately need to bum a ride off of somebody, anyway.

Bout of the Century

VS.



     Ladies and Gentlemen!  Boys and Girls!  Children of all ages!  This is the fight you've ALL been waiting for!  Welcome to the BOUT OF THE CENTURY!

Our first contender, weighing in at 130 lbs without his skinny jeans and beard, bicycle advocate and sponsored by Gothamist, GRANOLA McHIPSTERSEN!!

And his opponent, weighing in at 165 lbs, and that's just his head, economist and Jaguar driver, sponsored by The New Yorker, JOHN CASSIDY!!

**DING! DING! DING!**

Round 1:

Holy cow, Ladies and Gentlemen!  Cassidy has wasted NO time getting in a quick right hand jab to the face of McHipstersen.  He seems to be saying something about bike lanes as he continues to circle and dodge.  Cassidy is REALLY pumped for this fight!  He's trash-talking McHipstersen so loudly, I wonder if we can't turn up the ring-mic to have a listen to what he's saying as he intimidates his opponent:

"...a constituency that pursues its agenda with about as much modesty and humor as the Jacobins pursued theirs, and which has found its heroine in transportation commissioner Janette Sadik-Khan, I say hats off to Iris Weinshall, the former transportation commissioner, who, together with some like-minded citizens, has filed a lawsuit..."

Folks, this is an epic battle between two supremely good competitors.  Cassidy looks like he might get in another couple of punches just before the bell-- And there they are!  A quick one two in the final seconds of this round have left McHipstersen reeling in a daze as they retire to their respective corners!

**DING! DING! DING!**

Round 2:

Ladies and Gentlemen, we sure hope McHipstersen received some good guidance during that round break, because he really looked weakened out there in Round 1.  Our fighters are meeting in the center of the ring, sizing each other up for what is sure to be a penalizing Round 2.  McHipstersen is riled up, Folks!  He's shouting in the face of Cassidy!  Let's see if we can't get a listen:

"...let's take his allegation of humorlessness at face value and point out that if cyclists are sometimes overly serious, it's because the consequences of bicycling in NYC can be so deadly.  You may be yucking it up in his bloody Jaguar listening to Larry the Cable Guy..."

Wow!  You just don't hear that kind of talk during such a high-profile fight!  To think these two used to co-exist on the same planet! Now look at them!  McHipstersen is really going at Cassidy with a series of rights and lefts to the ribcage. 

From the sound of this crowd, McHipstersen has a lot of fans here in New York he does NOT want to let down!  Many of these people are holding up signs, proving their solid allegiance to McHipstersen.  We'll see if we can't get some closeups of some of these comments written by McHipstersen fans during the round break.

**DING! DING! DING!**
(End of Round 2)

Folks, we have just a minute here to show those of you in our television audience what some of McHipstersen's loyal fanbase has been saying:

"People in New York City don't need cars, jack ass."

"I prefer 'Jagoff' Cassidy."

"The average American car size is directly related to average American ass width."

**DING! DING! DING!**

Round 3:

Folks, thanks for joining us for this historic, winner-take-all  matchup between two of the country's loudest voices.  Round 3 has begun, and we're sure it's going to be a doozy!

Cassidy and McHipstersen have advanced to the center of the ring, and both combatants look angry enough to eat their opponent for breakfast!  This fight has become about so much more than just bikes vs. cars, my friends!  It's about young vs. old, upstarts vs. the Establishment, e-media vs. print!  As both men stare each other down and continue to try to psych each other out with their comments, it looks like this may come to a head very, very soon!

Wait a minute!  What's that?  Folks, someone, perhaps a fan, has just gotten past ringside security and has jumped INTO the ring!  It looks like-- Is that-- Yes, folks, it appears he is carrying a baseball bat!  This crazed fan appears to be wearing a t-shirt that says, "Walk/Don't Walk" on one the front, and an NYC subway map on the back.  Wow!  This "Walker" has just pummeled John Cassidy into a fetal position with his bat!  He appears to be screaming about the Manhattan Elite and how Cassidy shouldn't be referring to cars as "contraptions" because this is no longer the 19th century. 

Where is security?  Why haven't they put an end to this bloodbath?  Cassidy is lying motionless on the mat, Ladies and Gents, and "The Walker" seems to have turned his attention to Granola McHipstersen.  McHipstersen looks up from rolling his own cigarette just in time to take a bat to the jaw!  He's out cold!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I don't know when such a respectable sport such as boxing became so debased as to allow armed pedestrians into the ring in the middle of a fight, but this is insane!  Why is no one stopping him?  The crowd is stunned, Folks.  All action has come to a complete stop as- wait- could it be?  Yes!  Folks, the referee has started counting!  He's counting down on both Cassidy AND McHipstersen!  The crowd has started counting along with him!

...FIVE!  SIX!  SEVEN!  EIGHT!  NINE!  TEN!!!

**DING! DING! DING!**

Folks, the fight is over!  What started as an epic battle of bikes vs. cars has become reminiscent of a professional wrestling match!  The crowd is going wild!  The sheer decibel level here in the arena is really difficult to describe.  They have all started chanting in unison, "Wal-Ker!  Wal-Ker!  Wal-Ker!" 

Folks, the ref has raised both hands of "The Walker" in triumph!  He is strutting around the ring, sometimes even stepping ON Cassidy and McHipstersen.  The referee seems to have taken OFF his striped shirt and put on an MTA jacket!  In response, the crowd seems to be celebrating WITH the ref, chanting, "Sub-way!  Sub-Way!  Sub-Way!"

I don't think I've ever seen anything like this.  It appears as though "The Walker" has something to say to his two impromptu opponents.  Folks, he's reaching for the announcer's mic!  Let's hear what he has to say:

"You're both assholes.  Cassidy, you schmuck, use your turning signals and turn on your lights in the rain.  McHipstersen, you want bikers to have the same rights as cars?  Start obeying their rules; stop at red lights and stop signs, stay off the sidewalks, and signal when you're about to turn.  You guys make me sick.  What exactly were you fighting for tonight?  Huh?  Who's the biggest douche?  Well I have an answer: it's a tie.  And I own you both.  Dipshits." 

Rule #2: Commit

While I understand there is no way to close your eyes while reading this (have someone read it to you, maybe?), I would like you to try your best to imagine something for me:

Imagine you are a good looking, professional women, who has been so career-focused you haven't had much time to date.  Financially, you do well; not so well you have a permanent driver 24/7, but well enough that you can afford the stilettoes and fur coat you're wearing.  Imagine you finally found someone who could be the man of your dreams.  The first three dates have gone very well, and your taxi just dropped you off across the street from the restaurant where Date #4 is to occur.  As you begin to cross the avenue, the "Don't Walk" sign starts flashing.  What do you do?

Need some time to think it over?  Okay, here's another:

Imagine you're a young guy who just got his driver's license.  A buddy of yours wanted to go to this party way the hell out in Queens, and since you knew that there'd be drinking there, you made the difficult decision to "borrow" your parent's car so you could make sure your friend got to and from the party safely.  Now it's late.  You're got a little turned around on the way home, and your buddy is no help as he is drunk in the passenger seat, yelling loudly about how this chick from his Chemistry class spent the whole party ignoring him and making out with a varsity athlete.  You aren't a very good driver, but you're fairly certain you can get back home before your parents notice you (or their car) were ever gone.  The problem is, you're not QUITE sure where you are.  As you approach an intersection with a stop sign, you are unsure of whether or not you should turn.  There's traffic on both sides, but as you roll past the sign, it dawns on you that perhaps you wanted to turn right at that stop because you're pretty sure the sign in front of the diner down the block looked familiar.  So you basically stop in the middle of the road, unsure of what to do, as the drivers in both of the lanes you're blocking begin to approach from both sides.  Now there is also a car behind you, and someone trying to cross the street at the crosswalk you're approaching, and people are starting to honk, and your buddy looks like he might vomit in your parent's car.  What do you do?

Still not with me? 

Okay, one last one, and then I promise I'll get to the point:

Imagine that your mother lives by herself in Queens, and doesn't get around as well as she used to.  Sure, last summer, you were able to go feed the ducks at the park with her, but lately you've been concerned that she doesn't like the stairs to her apartment so she makes up excuses not to go out.  You mean to call her more, but you've been so busy at work, and your partner is driving you crazy, and your siblings keep texting you pictures of THEIR kids at insane hours of the morning.  Today, the day you're imagining, you haven't heard from your mother in some time, and your brothers and sisters haven't, either.  She won't answer her phone, and none of the neighbors have heard from her nor seen her in a few days.  You had planned on watching "Dexter" on Netflix that night, because you are midway through Season 2 and, let's face it, that show is insanely good, but you ended up being the Lucky Family Member to go check in on Mother, who you're sure is fine, that perhaps she had just accidentally turned the ringer off her phone because that sort of thing had happened before.  But that feeling of dread and fear that something is just not quite right begins to settle itself in your gut as you approach her block.  It has been snowing this winter, and the crosswalks are only cleared wide enough for one person to cross the street at a time.  You know these weather conditions can't be good for your mother.  A block away from her condo, you notice an ambulance out front with its lights flashing.  You begin to run towards your mother's building, fearing the worst as you start to cross the street.  You notice in the deep recesses of your mind that, about a half block away, a car is coming towards you and has a green light.  It is not speeding, and you have plenty of time to get to the other side.  What do you do?

The answer, to all three examples is simple:  COMMIT. 

To the lady in the fur coat and heels, commit to crossing.  You'll be fine.  Odds are good that any driver coming has already seen the light is red and, while it will SOON change to green, you'll be at LEAST halfway across the street by the time that happens, and there's no way he's going to hit someone who looks like she could sue him for everything he's got.

For the kid, commit to going straight.  New York is composed of small blocks, and chances are good if you made the wrong call, you can circle back within about 90 seconds and be back on the right track. 

For the person worried about their mother, COMMIT.  Who CARES that there's a car coming?  You're already starting to speed up, and who knows?  That ambulance could be for HER!

It should also be noted that in the the case of the kid with his folk's car, I'm the guy who's trying to cross the street, wondering if you're going to go, or what.  For the person going for their mom's, I'm actually behind you, wondering why the hell you're so concerned about a car that's WAY THE HELL DOWN THERE when all I want to do is get out of this freezing weather.  And to the woman in the heels, I'm the guy waiting for you at the restaurant.  But I'm going to take this opportunity to break up with you in person.  I just can't COMMIT to someone who wears fur.  You look like an idiot.