Nimmy One, Idiot Nil
[Mood:| 
Like a child who has just stomped on jelly babies, I am a destructive sense of delight wearing a pair of rather sticky shoes.
This morning, in broad daylight, I almost died.
Okay that was a tad overdramatic, the chances of death were probably fairly slim but a hospital trip was certain - had I not been blessed with spider sense that is. “Why the ranty tone?” You may ask. This is because, dear ladies and gentlemen, I almost got hit by a car.
Now let’s consider the evidence as to why I, the pedestrian, was daring to set foot on the territory of the car, the road:
At a pelican crossing? CHECK
Red light signalling on coming traffic to stop CHECK
The green man is present and accounted for CHECK
Said green man being a decent member of the highway community and not flashing away for all to see CHECK
Therefore, I am firm in the belief that I had the right of way. However, Mr. I-am-very-important-and-clearly-have-somewhere-to-be (first name Wanker) felt it was perfectly sensible and justified to continue on his 40mph path.
Fair enough it could be argued that he hadn’t seen me, that he was distracted and only took his eyes off the road for a second. Not good enough. I was not the only person crossing the road, there were two other people present, and it is his (the driver’s) job to be watching where he is going Let us be practical here - metal and horsepower (a car) vs. flesh and bone (a person) - it is going to be metal for the win probably before the bell has stopped ringing from introducing round one. A car is essentially/ potentially an instrument of death and drivers should act accordingly.
Instead you get stupid people like this man in his is vintage “I don’t have a penis so I am compensating” car thinking that he owns the freaking road. This, actually, raises an interesting question had he hit one of us lowly pedestrians: What would his reaction be: “Oh God I’ve hit someone” (all concerned like) or “Fuck! I only had the paintwork touched up last week.”
Unfortunately the driver did not get out of his car for me to ask his opinion on this matter. In fact he didn’t actually stop, or even slow down. Perhaps he is a past abuser of his brake pedal and as part of his ten step programme is not allowed to stomp on his former victim. So now he is forced to vent his aggression on the accelerator pedal who is, all the while, thinking that the brake pedal is a fucking lucky bitch.
Luckily, as the protagonist of this little episode, I was able to defy this accident-waiting-to-happen and leap out of the path of incoming death. Similarly, my fellow pedestrians also avoided certain doom - well maybe not certain doom but at least certain inconvenience (going to the hospital takes time after all). Of course this proved that us pedestrians are dexterous and agile creatures, leaping from the grasp of peril with the grace usually reserved for sleek black kitties.
Ok so I am romanticising now and the realism of the event was more akin to stumbling and a-fumbling backwards. We were, tragically, too busy thinking “fuck, shit” and other equally poetic phrases to remember to be graceful. Essentially though, we survived and went about our business, possibly entertaining the idea that Darwin would be proud.
Like a child who has just stomped on jelly babies, I am a destructive sense of delight wearing a pair of rather sticky shoes.
This morning, in broad daylight, I almost died.
Okay that was a tad overdramatic, the chances of death were probably fairly slim but a hospital trip was certain - had I not been blessed with spider sense that is. “Why the ranty tone?” You may ask. This is because, dear ladies and gentlemen, I almost got hit by a car.
Now let’s consider the evidence as to why I, the pedestrian, was daring to set foot on the territory of the car, the road:
At a pelican crossing? CHECK
Red light signalling on coming traffic to stop CHECK
The green man is present and accounted for CHECK
Said green man being a decent member of the highway community and not flashing away for all to see CHECK
Therefore, I am firm in the belief that I had the right of way. However, Mr. I-am-very-important-and-clearly-have-somewhere-to-be (first name Wanker) felt it was perfectly sensible and justified to continue on his 40mph path.
Fair enough it could be argued that he hadn’t seen me, that he was distracted and only took his eyes off the road for a second. Not good enough. I was not the only person crossing the road, there were two other people present, and it is his (the driver’s) job to be watching where he is going Let us be practical here - metal and horsepower (a car) vs. flesh and bone (a person) - it is going to be metal for the win probably before the bell has stopped ringing from introducing round one. A car is essentially/ potentially an instrument of death and drivers should act accordingly.
Instead you get stupid people like this man in his is vintage “I don’t have a penis so I am compensating” car thinking that he owns the freaking road. This, actually, raises an interesting question had he hit one of us lowly pedestrians: What would his reaction be: “Oh God I’ve hit someone” (all concerned like) or “Fuck! I only had the paintwork touched up last week.”
Unfortunately the driver did not get out of his car for me to ask his opinion on this matter. In fact he didn’t actually stop, or even slow down. Perhaps he is a past abuser of his brake pedal and as part of his ten step programme is not allowed to stomp on his former victim. So now he is forced to vent his aggression on the accelerator pedal who is, all the while, thinking that the brake pedal is a fucking lucky bitch.
Luckily, as the protagonist of this little episode, I was able to defy this accident-waiting-to-happen and leap out of the path of incoming death. Similarly, my fellow pedestrians also avoided certain doom - well maybe not certain doom but at least certain inconvenience (going to the hospital takes time after all). Of course this proved that us pedestrians are dexterous and agile creatures, leaping from the grasp of peril with the grace usually reserved for sleek black kitties.
Ok so I am romanticising now and the realism of the event was more akin to stumbling and a-fumbling backwards. We were, tragically, too busy thinking “fuck, shit” and other equally poetic phrases to remember to be graceful. Essentially though, we survived and went about our business, possibly entertaining the idea that Darwin would be proud.