Walking down the street

When nothing much exciting happens on BART, I'm going to start telling my other stories because boy, howdy, do I have them.

So today I blinked my way up the escalator to Market Street. This businessman had to get in front of me because that is what businessmen do even though they don't move faster than I, so I stared at his tan suit all the way up.

I was thinking to myself, "Do I like that suit? Is that a good businessman color? Man, he's skinny...," as I rode up.

He was doing his businessman thing, reading the newspaper while paying no mind to other people, even as he stepped onto the street. Since his legs were longer than mine, he was a few steps ahead of me by the time I hit the street.

Then I saw his arm move behind him.

That only means one thing: Underwear adjustment.

You see an amazing amount of things when you're out and about. I'm not too shocked anymore because people just don't get that their habits aren't necessarily most people's and that doing them in public is a bit offsetting. I've seen a lot. The most common is nose picking. Just dig right in and see what you find!

But he didn't go for the panty line. No. His finger moved right in the center. He dug right in and kept on digging until he was satisfied. And he did this right in front of everyone on the street, like it was a common practice amongst us all (well, maybe for some of us it is common – this is SF). He didn't even sheepishly look around to see if anyone was watching him.

I was passing him up when he removed said finger. I always think of saying something to people who do these types of things, but I never do.

I got to the first alleyway that causes pedestrian problems – the one by Chipotle. There was some weird traffic backup going on, where a work truck was trying to enter from New Montgomery and a sedan was trying to exit onto New Montgomery. Because of a van being parked right at the entranceway, there was no room for both. All of us pedestrians quickly scuttled behind the work truck – hoping, as always, for the best.

The next alleyway that causes minimal problems was having a problem as well. This is the one by the Academy of Art College.

Now, you must understand the mental stability of an SF pedestrian. We don't care if you're trying to turn – we go first. We will risk foot, leg or even life to make this point. We're trying to get to work, darn it, and to work we shall get. I personally stop for red lights and will not cross until I'm told to by the sign, but when it comes to these alleyways, well, I leave my brain behind and I just don't care. Most pedestrians follow this philosophy as well. I've seen some amazing things. The only people who don't follow this philosophy are visitors. They usually just group-up in the middle of the sidewalk while trying to figure out where Union Square is.

So I was getting closer to the alleyway by the school and I saw it. A big gigantic big rig trying to turn a corner most small cars have trouble with. There were a few pedestrians waiting for the driver to do his thing, but then he decided to backup a little. Like that was going to make a difference, but still. So what do the waiting pedestrians do? They walk in front of the big rig. I kept thinking they were going to get squished because the driver was not watching them – he was backing up, darn it, and that was all he seemed to care about.

The next group of pedestrians (including yours truly) got to the corner and stood there. I surveyed the situation, knew there was no way I was going to try to dart in front of the big rig, so I stood. And waited. There was a pickup truck parked on New Montgomery, pretty close to the alleyway, and I was thinking that the big rig was going to hit it. Then I'd have to be a witness. I've been a witness in a car accident before and it was not fun. I would get random calls from insurance agents (not knowing if it was the victims agent or not), and I would have to reiterate the same story over and over, over a 6-month time period. Things begin to get fuzzy after a point, and one time I really thought I was talking to the victim's agent and it turned out to be the wild driver's agent and I felt very duped.

Anyway, so I was watching the big rig's angle, and I thought, "Uh, oh. He's not going to fit. It's going to tilt on its side and squish us like ants!"

So I casually moved backwards. Come on, I didn't want to look like being squished by a big rig freaked me out. No way. I was just going casually hang out by the wall of the Pac Bell building No one else moved. One man looked at me all perplexed, like I was breaking off from the group. How dare I. Herding instincts are a plenty on the streets of SF.

I leaned against the building and watched the big rig slowly move forward (not hitting the pickup truck, but I had pretty much decided I wasn't going to see anything anyway), hit the curb with its first set of wheels, and then jerk itself forward to go over the curb, causing the big rig to tilt to the right – where my fellow pedestrians stood.

Oh boy! Did they scatter! One lady ran over to where I was and said, "Oh! I think I should move!" Well, duh. That or risk being a pancake.

There were a few titters and nervous guffaws, and I kept thinking, what a bunch of idiots.

But then, I've already been through this situation when walking to the BART station with D a few years back. Pretty much the same thing happened, but we were too stupid or dumbfounded to move. We grabbed each other and squealed "oh!" while the truck was tipping on its side towards us.

See, live and learn. Live and learn.