o today, here’s a brief column about the earliest form of human communication: the gesture. In this case, it’s flipping the bird.
Side note: Yes, the finger came about after Agincourt in 1415, but it is a gesture so I’m going with it.
Now, I’m a cyclist. And a pedestrian. I walk and bike more than most people, and hence can tell you that most people drive like furious buttheads. Having been on the receiving end, I slow way down and swing way wide of any non-car humans. I’ve been hit by cars once while on foot and six times while riding my bike. And yes, it hurts and is quite frightening. Knowing that, I take it very easy around pedestrians.
So this is why my little story is baffling. I was coming south on a road that swings into Orange Ave, coming in on a tangent. My lane and the Orange lane form two lanes southbound where I come in. I was about fifty yards short of a crosswalk, my light was green, I was doing about 40mph, and a pedestrian (not crossing on the light but still just stepping clear) was regaining the sidewalk to my left. By the time I crossed the crosswalk he’d used, he was ten feet further along it. I glance at him as I go by and he’s flipping a furious bird at me.
Huh?
Look, I’ve done things in the highway that possibly earn me birds. But this time he was well clear. And yet he was furious about something – I can’t imagine what.
We all like mysterious backstories. Maybe he’s got some sort of one going. Hates MiniCoopers? The color blue? Writers?
Whatever.