Diary of a Wolfeman

Okay, I gotta ask: just what the fuck is up with the pedestrians in Downtown lately?

Today, I had to stop and wait for a footie to clear the crosswalk on my green at 5 consecutive stop signals. And not just a few seconds as they made the last couple steps, either – these tards were barely halfway across when the green tripped. Worse than that, the last one was a dude in an electric wheelchair!

You’re thinking “Oh, cut the guy some slack!” but no – he was rolling fast enough that I would have been running to keep up with him, and I was halfway into the intersection when he blazed up from my left. I was in the far right lane!

What really pisses me off is how they don’t even look at the cars stopped at the intersection – they just stroll along like we’re not even there, with that whole “I’m walking and not polluting the air, so you can just wait for me” attitude. Well, listen up, treehugger: I AM polluting the air with my car, and you making me wait is dragging it out even longer. You want to save the planet? Then get the fuck out of my way so I can stop burning fuel at idle.

Look, folks, let’s get something straight. When the crosswalk signal shows the white “man walking” icon, go ahead and cross.

When the red “Halt” hand starts to flash, it means you need to clear the crosswalk. Those already crossing should step right along, those who have not begun should stay put.

When that red hand turns solid, it means “stay the fuck out of the street”.

When the light in front of me turns green, I WILL GO. If you are in front of me, don’t give me that pissy glare and amble on across, I want you to jackrabbit those last three steps.

In ‘Vegas, (and it’s one of the few things I miss) the law states “the pedestrian does not have the right of way when the walk signal has turned red.” That’s right. If you are out of the crosswalk or crossing against the light, and you get run down, the law thinks it was your own damn fault.

Mind you, they also gave the footies about 30 seconds more walk signal because they knew the corners are crowded. So they were nice about it.

Me, I had my own way of helping them hurry up. I’d plant my left foot on the brake and my right foot on the gas. When a 6000-pound land-based aircraft carrier like my old Plymouth lurches at you with the front end twisting from the motor’s torque and the 400″ engine growling, you get the fuck out of the way. When the above happens and you look in the windshield to see me grinning in that “mmmm…rOaDKiLL!!” way, you teleport, leaving nothing behind but the faint whiff of ammonia as you piss your pants.

I swear my next car is going to have a great big cow catcher on the front with salt and pepper shakers attached to it for easy seasoning.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007 at 10:28 pm and is filed under Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.