January 26th, 2013

Whale fluke

At times I wish I were a stunt man

Silly me. I was walking Thursday afternoon and approaching a cross walk, and a driver stopped to wait to turn right. I thought the driver had made eye contact with me. Maybe she did, but when the light turned green simultaneous with the Walk sign, she gunned it, and turned into that lot very very fast. Well, relatively fast, it wasn't NASCAR speed, but I had hoped that -- especially since the driver had no one waiting behind her -- I could go first. Silly me.

Here's where I can become devious: I went from wanting to knock on the side of the car that had passed me like that -- the part of me that, another time, when I saw a driver not slow down as a walker crossed a marked crosswalk, yelled "Really?!" into the car's open passenger side window (because maybe that'll make a driver at least think that maybe they're not driving carefully enough) -- to wanting to body-slam the car. To pretend the car had hit me, so that the driver and anyone else in the car would REALLY see me and I could say "I'm fine. You should've let me go first. Right of way and all that."

I wondered how to do a stunt like that safely, or at least with a minimal chance of my actually hurting myself. Stunt men do that! Pro wrestlers also do that, getting trained so that they aren't hurt nearly as much as they look like they're getting hurt in a match. It's a skill. One I don't have, but it amuses me to imagine: me doing a full roll across a moving car's hood, and landing safely on my feet like a bad-ass. A SAFE BAD-ASS.

That, of course, could go badly in all sorts of ways, so I'm not doing that, but if I could use action (and physical comedy) for good, I would.

Drive safely! Walk safely, too!

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