They cross without even so much as turning their head, entitled and brash, their stride resembles the goading of a schoolyard bully, confident with indifference. Their technology isolates them and their seclusion gives them license to assume that every street corner is a crosswalk. There was a time when people who crossed streets were wary of automobiles. A time when large machines of steel caused children and adults alike to heed, when pedestrians were actually cautious of getting hit by a car. Maybe it was the solid chrome bumpers or the heavy fenders that struck fear in those who jaywalked, or maybe we’ve grown into such a coddling, caring, careful bunch of jellyfish that even slow Uncle Jethro with the fanny pack wearing socks and sandals isn’t afraid of getting run over. Nowadays people brazenly walk right into intersections expecting drivers to yield, rarely even acknowledging those behinds the wheel, casually thinking that everyone will stop for their little stroll. No matter how tolerant or civil we would like to be, even a hippie in a Subaru can kill a yuppie douchebag who’s walking in the middle of the street. Sometimes I imagine a rumbling Peterbilt flattening one of these ipod/bluetooth wearing, non-looking-both-ways-before-crossing-a-street grade-A imbeciles so that others like them will realize that things with engineswill always win over things with legs.
Fill ‘er up, sir.