OK, today was a slightly different morning commute for me. I left early, drove to work with a different crowd, saw stuff that I don’t normally see, and basically, had a unique experience. This early morning commuter crowd had more executives, and upwardly mobile types in it. This was the, “I’ll get to work early so I can finish reading the Wall Street Journal before preparing that report for the board of directors” group. Normally, I drive to work with the “Fuck, I spilled coffee on my shirt, dropped the kids off late for daycare, and man am I in a hurry” crowd. So, I was relaxed, seeing the world in a new way, refreshed, wide-eyed, and full of vigor.
I was full of vigor, that is, until a douchebag decided he needed cinch up his book bag and casually cross the street in front of me. I mean, where I was driving was a three lane wide city street, both ways, and a 35 mph speed limit. It’s designed to move people in and out of downtown in masses and in a hurry. It’s a 5 way intersection to boot. There is no light or other signs that should give a pedestrian any clue that it is a safe place to cross the street. It’s a place, where you, as a pedestrian, should cross carefully. However, cross the street he did, with very little heed for his surroundings.
Well, I was whistling down the road, pretty much going exactly the speed limit, when I noticed this thin-mustached pencil dick start to cross the street. I was no less than 200 feet from him when he decided to step off of the curb. He clearly saw me coming. He could have stayed put. He should have stayed put. But, away he went. I saw him, so I slowed respectfully. I was thinking, “I wouldn’t have crossed in that instance if I were him.” The speed limit was too high to accommodate the rate he was crossing the road, I was too close, and he should have valued his life more by showing my car some respect. But he didn’t care. He just trundled out into the street even though he knew I would have to brake to allow him to finish crossing. It was early so there was virtually no traffic. He could have waited another 3 seconds and I would have been through the intersection and he could have crossed at whatever rate of speed he wanted.
But no, he had to cross. Knowing that it is very illegal to run people over (even when it would do a great service to the rest of the world by doing so) I slowed for him. I slowed, and slowed some more, until I had to STOP! This fucker was crossing the street so slowly, my 84 year old grandmother could have smoked him. My morning’s good mood was gone. I was always taught that you look both ways when you walk into traffic. Then, you hustle until you get to the other side. I would have gotten a firm swat when I was a kid if I crossed a major city street at twice this kid’s speed. Glaciers would turn on their left turn signal to pass this fucker. I was taught, if a car comes when you’re crossing the street, you’d better pick up the pace to get out of their way! You should fully anticipate that the oncoming car is filled with Nicaraguan refugees fleeing from Interpol, that they don’t care about you, and will gladly run you over. You should think that the guy driving the approaching vehicle is drunk, blind, and had his license revoked twenty years earlier after his 32nd OWI. In other words, when one makes the decision to cross a street, you do so with some zest, energy, and fervor. You try to get to the other side as quickly as you can. Imagine that the curbs on either side of the road are the walls of a shooting gallery and as you cross, you’re the duck about to get shot by a bunch of dudes wielding .22’s. Your only safe bet is to get across the road and back onto the other pedestrian area – the sidewalk!
This guy saw me coming, chose to cross, and did absolutely nothing to alter his speed of progress even though I was fully stopping my car in the middle of the street for his slothful ass. This irked me, so I gave him an educational horn honk to help him remember that he inconveniences drivers when he walks that slowly and incoherently. I mean, if the guy was an old lady or handicapped in some way, I’d have given him 2 hours to cross the street. Fuck, if he was old or handicapped, I’d have skidded my car horizontally to a halt, blocked traffic, put out some flares and traffic cones, and directed motorists to the side of the road to help keep him safe from harm. But, this guy was not handicapped nor old. He was just a 24 year old, life-hating dildo with a bad tie, Dockers creeping up his ass, and a pair of black tennis shoes from Wal-Mart. I honked because if he had crossed at the speed I think he should have, I would not have had to slow at all.
Here’s where it gets interesting. No sooner does the last decibel decay from my car horn than does this potato-chip-toothed dickwad yell “I’m in the crosswalk bitch!” Needless to say, this didn’t set too well with me. So, I let him finish and responded politely with, “Fuck you jackass! Learn how to walk and then people won’t honk at you!”
OK, I’m the first to admit that maybe I didn’t handle that situation with my normal aplomb, tact, wit, grace, and charm. But that guy pissed me off. People will say that I was only mad because he inconvenienced me. Really, that wasn’t it at all. I was early. I was in a good mood. I was well rested. It was the fact that this guy decided that he could just do whatever he wanted and the world could be damned. He was in the right… He was entitled!
If he would have shown the slightest inkling of concern for the fact that I had to stop in the middle of the road to wait for him, I would not have honked. If he would have shown that he understood that there was absolutely no good reason for me to have to stop so that his lame ass could shuffle across the street, I would not have honked. If he would have shown the tiniest scintilla of hustle, I would not have honked. But he did none of those things.
Society needs to get back to the days where hustle was good and where we give a shit about other people. He needed to take some ownership for the fact that he made a mistake. I mean having a healthy self-esteem and a positive sense of community can go hand in hand. Hustling in this instance wouldn’t mean he sacrificed his sense of style and was weak. It shows “Oops, I fucked up and shouldn’t have crossed at that moment. I’m making up for it by increasing my pace to a jog and inconveniencing you as little as I possibly can.” Hustle will keep you alive. It will get you to that job interview, keep you taking your garbage cans from the house to the curb and back again, and keep your life from turning to crap. It will be good for you and everyone around you. People will learn from your example. They’ll see what a good role-model you are. Hustle would help that fucking dick realize that he looks like a total penis with that whispy mustache and inspire him to buy a razor and shave that shit off. Hustle would have gotten him to Goodwill where he could have purchased a pair of pants that fit better than the ball-splitting high-waters he was wearing. Hustle would have brightened his day and mine.
That’s right everyone, KC and the Sunshine Band said it best, “Do the Hustle” and “That’s the Way Uh Huh, Uh Huh I Like It.“ Words to live by.
