The crossing nearest to my home has this button and I hate this button with the fire of 1000
suns. The reason I have intense hate for that button is because it only
works when it feels like it. One time I had to push the button three times to
get it to go into ‘a human wants to cross here now’ mode. Thrice! I don’t know if this happens to other people. I think the
button could be a racist.
So today I was coming back from the Toho down the street and
I got to the crossing. I pushed the button and then took about three steps to
the right to wait at the curb to cross. (If that seems oddly specific just
wait, it’s important.)
I’m listening to my iPod, gazing into the distance, gently
swinging my bag of groceries back and forth in the way that my wife finds so
frustrating (But don’t worry she wasn’t there, so she doesn’t know I was- oh.)
Anyway, it takes a couple of seconds, but I finally notice there is not a
single goddamn car on the road or even visible in the distance. Because this
button and I have words before, I gazed back at it. My inherent distrust of the
button told me something was up, but the worst part of it is that it has two
little red panels. They’re all in Japanese! Japanese is not my strong suit. Basically,
when one of them is lit, it means the button is preparing to safely deliver you
across the road. When the other one is lit it means go fuck yourself, chump,
you didn’t push me hard and/or frequently enough to make me bother with you.
When the top option is lit, which of the two things I just described is
happening? Here’s the kicker: I don’t
know. Now you’re saying to yourself, “but surely you cross that thing every
other day and you could just remember
which is which based on past experience, right?” Wrong. This little detail
lives in the portion of my brain that decides which facts are immediately
purged from my brain in favor of things like the years in which the Foo
Fighters released albums.
So I’m wondering whether I should take three steps to push
the button or just step on out into that road and roll the dice, baby. Cos I’m
an outlaw! But then the situation ramps up a notch.
Old lady walks out form the little alley closest to the
crossing. My reptilian brain tells me she’s
gonna cross, you douchebag. What happens when she gets to the crossing?! You’ve
gotta do something! I can’t just reach out and casually push the button
like I just got there, because I foolishly moved away from it. Way I see it, I’ve
got two choices: A) dash in front of her to push the button, thus showing her I
knew the button needed pushing but maybe coming off a little crazy, or B) what
I call the Men’s urinal play - stare straight ahead and whistle quietly while
things that I hope to avoid are happening to the side of me. In this case she pushes
the button for both of us.
I went with option B. The lady gets to the crossing, looks
at me, looks at the button and then looks at me very obviously while she pushes
the button.
“That button is a piece of shit,” I mumble at her. Then I
use my longer legs power to stride away ahead of her. But I can never outstride
my shame.
