Walk like a Homo Sapien

Proverb: If ever you find yourself see-sawing on the street with a pigeon, playing chicken to see who will flake first, you know you are doing something wrong with walking.    

I live in a mini-metropolis.  I mean it is really just a mile-long street with rows of stores and banks and shops and miscellaneous.

A couple of months ago I ran into my elementary school crush and he said to me, “Do you still live in that building that cuts Austin in half?”

I said, “Yup, I do actually,” realizing after 23 years just how obnoxious my building really is.  Those poor folks living on the opposite end of the street—they gotta walk around my building just to get to the other side.

            But I’ll tell you something—Austin Street sucks anyway!  And it does not just suck because of the freeloading junior-high school pre-teen ragamuffins; it sucks because it is constantly congested.  And that would not be so bad if people in the tri-state area would take a class on how to walk.  I am not even talking about walking straight because I certainly cannot do that myself, but just learning proper technique and etiquette when walking.  Look, we live in an over-populated place, but that does not mean we should forget about common courtesy.

            An English teacher of mine in high school told this kid, “I can tell you’re the type of person who walks slowly next to the elderly and who steps aside when you need to.”  The thing is the teacher completely misdiagnosed that kid, but I had always strived to be like that.  And to this day I reduce the urgency of my tread if I notice somebody having a hard time with his or her own.

            So ultimately, the reason I hate Austin Street is because people do not know when to step aside for other people.  People need to be more self-aware, true, but people also need to be more present of others.  This may be your movie, but you do not want to be bumping into extras, do you?  That just does not look good on camera.  So here it is.  My Walking 101—lessons for anyone who will listen.

There are different types of walkers: the chargers, the burrowing animals, the slowpokes, the zig-zaggers, and several more categories that I have not come up with names for yet.  The burrowing animals (or squirrels as I like to call them, although squirrels are not really burrowing animals) are the best walkers to be because they can squeeze themselves through or past any asinine walker in mostly any situation.  The only problem is that the squirrels do not know how to use their voices—two words, Squirrels, “Excuse me!”  But if a squirrel and a slowpoke are walking down the same slope, the squirrels find it easy to bypass them.  However, if a charger and a slowpoke are walking the same block, the charger instantly becomes frustrated and starts huffing on the nape of the slowpoke.  You do not want to be any of these people (although if I am being honest I am kind of like a charging, zig-zaging squirrel when I walk down the street).  The charger gets frustrated that the slowpoke does not just step aside for a second, and the slowpoke probably feels uncomfortable with a Lurch lurking at their shoulder.
             So what is another lesson we can learn from the obstacles of walking? Answer: how to be patient and not lose our cool.  As walkers we need to open our mouths to move through, not push and moan and make everyone including yourself miserable.  Sorry to inform you, but you are also to blame for your now bad day.  So if you are feeling cowardly and do not have the vocal chords for the proper, “Excuse me,” at least have the courage to wield this word from your tool bank, “Sorry.” 

When I was in Israel for Birthright our group leaders would teach us a word in Hebrew everyday.  There was only one word I used, only one word I needed to know—and of course, one of the only words I remember now: Slikha.  The word means both Sorry and Excuse Me.  In America we have a word we use too, “Stupid!”

       

Proverb: Instead of looking before you leap, why not breathe before you step and make a fool of yourself. 

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