Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun

This post is dedicated to my new mortal nemesis. You’ve met this person before. He probably bumped into you this morning. Or you probably heard her loudly exclaim her surprise and start giggling to her pal every time she was met that rare and wondrous, several-thousand-times-in-a-lifetime event: the train going forward. That’s right. I’m referring to the Person Who Is Always Taken By Surprise When the Train Starts or Stops Moving.

I don’t know what made this particular villain the way he is. Think about how rare it is that on any given train, there’s a grown adult who is riding the subway for the first time ever. That’s the only excuse for stumbling every single time the train overcomes its inertia and locomotes forward, right? And you’ve got to think that even if this non-child, who somehow managed to get his pants on, who ostensibly was able to tie her shoes, who was able pass through the threshold of the electronic turnstile, was in fact riding the subway for the first time, he would be able to infer that A) there are poles and straps all over this moving metal box for some reason, B) everyone around me is holding a pole or a strap for some reason, and finally C) the last time this machine went from stopped to not-so-stopped, I went hurtling backwards for some reason. I’m not even saying that every subway rider should have a basic grasp of Newtonian physics. Just the most cursory understanding of the logic behind cause and effect.

And yet a day doesn’t go by where you don’t encounter the Person Who Is Always Taken By Surprise When the Train Starts or Stops Moving. I had one today. She and her boyfriend were standing in front of me, and at every stop from Kenmore to Park Street, this girl reacted like an innocent newborn first encountering the glory of the bright morning sun. And by that, I mean she was knocked off her feet like she just got checked by Scott Stevens.

What pole?

Now, precious readers, I understand that in our daily lives, we’re all forced to suffer fools at every turn. And normally, I’m happy to shake my head at some poor, ignorant getting tossed around the train like a plastic bag in the wind. But in a crowded train, where everyone else can muster the physical and mental faculties to steady themselves when an event as routine as a train moving occurs, it’s a certified nuisance when one person is standing on one foot with their hands in their pockets and then bounces around in their own game of man-sized Plinko. Is it too much to ask for people to plant their feet? Or grab the pole? Or, heavens forfend, both?

And if you’re going to flop around the car like a marionette being operated by an angry chimp, could you do the universe a favor and sling your oversized Sherpa bag over your shoulder instead of letting it dangle off your elbow and smash everyone in a five-foot radius? Ugh. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: we’re living in a society, people!

So there I am, riding eastbound on the Charles River bike path, and I stop at the North Harvard Street Bridge. There’s a lot going on here at this crossing: Storrow Drive traffic making lefts and rights to get over the river, plus traffic going both ways over the bridge, with incoming traffic trying to get onto Storrow. Thankfully, there’s a walk signal.

Precious reader, Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun is a lot of things, but a blog that doesn’t learn its lessons, it is not. I approach the crosswalk as traffic is moving over the bridge, the “Don’t Walk” signal clearly advising me to stay put. I dutifully press the walk button. Bridge traffic stops, and Storrow Drive traffic commences. Okay, I think to myself, this is perfectly acceptable, as I’m sure the walk signal is waiting for all of the lefts and rights over the bridge before telling me that it’s safe to cross. Patiently, I wait, as those lefts and rights go through the intersection.

So, treasured reader, you can imagine my dismay when the Storrow traffic stopped and the bridge traffic re-commenced. Odd, I thought. I pressed the button, and yet an entire traffic cycle went by without my safe crossing being facilitated. I repressed the button, and again watched as the bridge traffic stopped and the Storrow traffic started. Then stopped again. Without the walk signal turning on.

Now, darling reader, Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun is a lot of things, and a blog that will cut off its nose to spite its face, it is. (Hi, Mom.) I would have sat there all day waiting for this signal to turn, had I not had another cyclist behind me waiting for me to cross. So with a clearly audible “F&%$ this noise,” I hurled myself into harm’s way, braving an unsanctioned crossing, the potential for any of a number of vehicles to do unimaginable harm to my person. Thankfully, I survived. No thanks to the walk button.

The author, tongue protruding and eyes Xed out to signify death, crushed by the oppression of the walk button

I hope all of the people who commented on my original walk button travails, both on this blog and off, are reading. A lot of people have a lot of faith in this walk button thing: that faith is sadly misplaced. I’m trying to tell you people, this button is useless! It’s worse than useless; it’s purposely fooling us into thinking that we humans have any agency whatsoever over our own street-crossing agenda. We don’t! Pernicious stuff! I feel like Nietzsche’s madman, lighting a lantern in the bright morning hours:

“I have come too early,” he said then; “my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than most distant stars—and yet they have done it themselves.

So let’s just keep pressing the walk button, each doing our own small part to usher in an apocalyptic nightmare future where the machines don’t serve us, but rather we serve the machines. I saw a movie about this one time. It was called Terminator 2. That one doesn’t work out too well for us humans.

Today’s installment of Shake Harder, Boy is dedicated to the stupid Walk Button. You know, the button on the corner that you press to compel the walk signal to light up. The button you sort of impulsively press because there’s nothing better to do while you’re waiting for the light to change. The button that’s undoubtedly crawling with all manner of bacteria, germs, pathogens, viruses, protists, nematodes, trichina worms, assorted flagellates, and grimy elements. That one.

The plain and honest truth of the matter is that the concept of the walk button is so ludicrously dumb that anyone that isn’t a child just assumes that it’s a placebo device. A button, that makes the signals work? That anyone can press? Really? Think about it this way: while you’re walking down the street on any given day, how many actual functional buttons do you come across? Do you come across any? Good! There’s a reason we don’t put buttons that are actually connected to consequential circuitry out where any Tom, Dick, and Harry can press them. Odds are, any Tom, Dick, or Harry is the kind of idiot you wouldn’t trust with the buttons on his own shirt!

So when a normal human comes across the walk button, can you blame her for just standing there patiently waiting for the light to change? Has anyone actually witnessed proof that the walk button actually does anything? In 25 years, I’ve never been foiled by the walk button. With that body of experience backing me up, I made a decision I’ve made thousands of times before: when I came to the intersection of North Washington and Thacher streets, I just stood there, and patiently waited for the light to change.

It’s not a terribly complicated intersection, but North Washington does lead to a bridge, and there’s a left-only light going in one direction, so there’s some stuff going on. So I waited. As I rolled up, the left-only traffic was just wrapping up. So then the traffic on North Washington started moving (this is the traffic that’s perpendicular to my route, so I had no choice but to wait). All the while, the red hand on the other side of the street is steadily shining at me. Then the left-only traffic started moving again. Now, there was a guy on the corner with me, and a girl on the other corner, so a certain amount of mob non-moving mentality was at play. The red hand is still shining. Then . . .

Press me. If you're an idiot.

The North Washington traffic started moving again! The walk sign never came on! Because no one pressed the walk button! Seriously!

Now, on a rural two lane dirt path, in the dead of night, in a sparsely populated county, where there are rarely any pedestrians, I would understand having a system where walk signals didn’t turn on unless there was someone there to press a button. Because who wants to be stuck at a red light on an invariably haunted rural county road for no reason? But this is downtown Boston! There’s always going to be people crossing the street!

And why is the burden of button-pushing on the pedestrian? The people in cars don’t have to press anything. I’m not an idiot; I’m not advocating some wacky system of button pushery on the part of motorists. All I’m saying is, the regime of button pushery should be brought down for everyone!

And really, the walk button isn’t affecting the actual traffic lights. (That’s not based on any real knowledge; I just have to assume that people pressing buttons on the sidewalk aren’t affecting the length of traffic lights. I need to believe that, precious reader. I need to.) And it’s not like if the walk signal isn’t on, that the don’t walk signal isn’t on either. There’s always a light on! What’s the benefit of not just automatically putting the walk signal on when it’s safe to walk? Why are we putting this onerous responsibility on the shoulders of pedestrians?