Mestee Blogger

Every weekday morning, in front of North Station, there is a battle that takes place between cars and pedestrians. More accurately, the battle is between the people who drive the cars and the pedestrians who are trying to get from the Fleet Center to the other side of Causeway Street. You see, we pedestrians try as best we can to stick together in one long line without gaps, which allows all of the pedestrians to cross the street in one shot without having to wait for cars. This means that the unsuspecting driver who stops to allow the first person exiting from North Station to cross the street will most likely also have to wait for the hundreds of people walking two by two behind them. Once the driver realizes this, they are typically enraged and make futile attempts to create a space for their car to pass through the never-ending line of pedestrians. For some reason, I believe most pedestrians find great pleasure in testing the patience of the drive-to-work crowd. I have to laugh when a driver honks their horn or, better yet, revs their engine, as if to say "Once all of you cross the street in front of me, I'm going to drive really fast!".



(For any of those interested, I did not get the reproduction rights to the above cartoon, but I don't make any money from this site, so I don't feel that bad about it :-P)

This morning, a female driver in her 40's decided that she could not wait any longer for us pedestrians. She began to inch her car into the crosswalk, figuring that the people walking in front of her would have to step around her car, eventually causing a gap in foot traffic large enough for her to get through. She didn't know who she was messing with.

There was a thin, balding man with a limp walking directly in front of me. As he began to walk in front of the car, it inched forward again and actually made contact with him -- outrageously low-speed contact, but contact nonetheless. He stopped immediately, turned to the driver, raised his hands above his head, and slapped them down on the hood of the car. He then yelled at the top of his lungs, "THIS IS A CROSSWALK!!!", then continued walking.** It was a simple, yet effective message that left the woman with her jaw dropped open as if she had seen a ghost. It was clear that she had learned her lesson: Don't mess with pedestrians, because eventually they will hit your car and yell things at you.

Fernald and I had a good, if lengthy, time at the Garment District last night. We tried on sunglasses, wigs, caveman get-ups, chewbacca masks, and pretty much anything else that would keep the other entertained while we looked for costumes. I was running short of ideas and had entertained the thought of dressing as a flamboyant 70's pimp. As I checked out the giant pink and purple feather boas, Brendan won the title of Captain Obvious for the evening, with the statement, "I don't know, these are kind of gay." As for our actual costumes, you'll just have to wait and see.

In an NFL transaction hitting close to home at 23 Boston Ave, the San Diego Chargers released my friend and former teammate Jason Ball, and replaced him with Mike's cousin, Bob Hallen. Jason was apparently picked up the next day by the Miami Dolphins, who look like they could easily go 1-15 this year.

**Someday, I plan on learning how to properly punctuate a sentence that involves quotations, but for now you'll have to cope with my best guess.

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