I’ve been putting off writing this post for some time. In my mind I was waiting until I had enough
material. That would have been about a
week or two after moving here. I think
it was more to make sure I wasn’t angry or cynical as I wrote. Here I am anyway.
Today’s favorite was the guy who pulled up behind me with
about 3 feet between his bumper and mine and honked at me for only speeding by
3 miles per hour. The numerical
coincidence took me away to my blissful paradise in another state while the guy
promptly turned off the road anyways.
Speeding is a major issue here in Baltimore. That is, if you’re not doing it then you risk
getting your license revoked, or your trunk smashed. We always know we’re getting close to home
when the relative speed moves from only a couple mph over the limit to between
10-12. Better yet is the expressway in the
middle of town; I get passed like I’m stopped when I’m only doing 10 over—in any
lane. They put up signs along the side
of the expressway that read “3 seconds distance” and “Obey speed limit”, like
we were in kindergarten but with a license to kill drive. They don’t even bother putting cops on patrol
there. None of them are brave enough to
pull anyone over.
Driving isn’t the only thing we complain about or are
terrorized by here. It does, however,
occupy a vast majority of our time and topics of conversation. I have forgotten that there is a debt crisis
in the world largely because we no longer have time to talk about it. It’s far more fascinating to gripe about the
fact that we just got flipped off for thinking of going through a green light
when a pedestrian wants to cross. When
they’re really mad they don’t flip you off, they put up the stop hand and slide
the head from side to side: “Uh-uh! No
you di’ in’t!” This is most effective in
the middle of the crosswalk on your green light.
We actually wondered how pedestrians can get away with this
so “safely.” Let me elaborate. It’s 10pm and you’re out driving somewhere
in Baltimore (that was dumb). The
street lights are broken. Suddenly, you
see a dark shape in front of you. It’s
some dude dressed in total black crossing a 45 mph road. There was a traffic light about a 2-minute
walk down the road, but this was safer . . . somehow. It’s funner when it’s raining outside in
Baltimore. I’ve come to realize that the
little people stickers on the back of the SUV’s aren’t family members but
confirmed hits, which explains why there appear to be so many atypical 10-car families in Baltimore. As I was saying, we
wondered how people survive here. Some
good friends doing rotations in the local ERs have laid our naïveté to rest. The hospitals stay in good business here in
Baltimore, thanks to the pedestrians. Sadly.
It doesn’t work in reverse.
Traffic rules are twisted here and if you try to jaywalk without enough
attitude, you will hear about it. I made
the mistake of trying to cross at an intersection with the little walk light. There are signs posted in “Don’t hit me”
yellow that say to yield to pedestrians in crosswalks. However, those first few seconds (meaning:
until the light turns red again) are for right/left turners to get through the
intersection—pedestrians wait. I’ll
admit that this clears out the cars more easily. I’ll also admit that I carried a spare set of
shorts with me for the first couple months until I learned to stop following the
pedestrian rules and just jaywalk like every other decent Baltimore citizen.
Oh Baltimore
Perhaps my favorite part of Baltimore is the guy who drives
around on his motorcycle with a spiked helmet.
We’re talking spiked—like a few dozen of these things. Fluorescent engine lights. Funk.
He’s got his radio pumping funk into the night everywhere he goes. This is actually a good thing. It’s not death metal. It’s not kill-your-ex-buddy anger rap. It’s funk.
And he’s bouncing up and down, dancing on his motorcycle both at the
stoplights and as he’s driving. It
actually makes me happy to run into (not literally) this guy.
Another classic was the lady heading into the public library
in front of me. It’s actually quite an
attractive library. I highly recommend
checking it out if you’re in town. I’d
have opened the door for her, but I couldn’t get around her one-wheeled
suitcase to help her. Yep. She was half-dragging a one-wheeled suitcase
down any number of blocks, into the library and down the halls. I’m pretty sure people upstairs heard
her. We’re not talking about your little
trendy, wheeled-backpacks that you can just as easily carry but are too lazy
to. We’re talking about paying United
Airlines $25 to check this thing all the way to Denver because there’s no way you're getting it through the cabin door. She
was dressed nicer that I am, which I realize isn’t ever saying much, but still
nicely enough to afford a suit case. Or
at least a wheel.
Oh Baltimore
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