Turning

Setting the stage:
As I've done many hundreds—possibly thousands—of times over the past eight and a three-quarter years I walked from the train station to the office. This is downtown L.A., with most streets being one-way, so at some intersections the left turn is merely hugging the corner (the mirror of making a right turn at a conventional intersection), rather than crossing lanes of oncoming traffic and swinging to the right. On my route, the second intersection I must cross is such an intersection.

I travel the opposite direction of oncoming traffic, so when I'm in the crosswalk cars turning left are coming from my left, generally waiting to turn toward my right.

Generally.

Because cars are approaching the intersection in the lanes near to the sidewalk approaching drivers generally notice pedestrians already in the crosswalk and wait. Sometimes they slow nicely to indicate they see us, and sometimes they come to a sudden halt because they weren't looking until almost starting to turn, but most of the time they do stop and wait.

I get it that people perceive themselves to be harried and in urgent need to get to their destinations. I understand that all the one-way streets and tall buildings can be confusing for those unfamiliar with the area. Nonetheless, the rules of the road dictate that one must concede the right-of-way to pedestrians with a walk sign.

The scene:
This morning there was a wide enough break in the flow of pedestrians so that two vehicles turned and crossed the crosswalk (one of which was a Hummer—what a shock). Then with me leading a second pack of pedestrians, and well over 75 percent across another car started to turn. He then noticed me, a few steps away, approaching him. We made eye contact. And he stepped on the accelerator to whip out in front of me.

He raised his hand toward me in a gesture I imagine he intended as conciliatory, acknowledging that he did cut right in front of me.

It's not that I've never had a driver turn in front of me, but usually those who have were so oblivious that they didn't give any indication of having seen me at all.

I then did something I have never done before. Without breaking stride I raised my right hand, knuckles toward him, with my thumb, index finger, ring finger and pinkie curled down. I intended this gesture to indicate he could shove his conciliation in the personal orifice of his choosing.

And it felt kinda good.

It's not that he was any worse than the Hummer or other car who turned before him, who were also close to other pedestrians. On that point they were equally inconsiderate. He was merely the one who made the mistake of looking at me.

Should not his hint of acknowledging his guilt have earned him a reprieve? And I say that makes him worse. It wasn't blithe disregard for others; it was a conscious choice to be a jerk. He had the opportunity to brake, as he should have. His action clearly indicated he knew he should have. And he did not.

Do I think he saw my gesture? I do. Do I think it made him feel worse? I do not.

I didn't flip him off to make him feel worse; I did it to make it clear he was not "forgiven" by showing me his palm. I did it because he deserved it. I did it because I figured he wouldn't stop and get out to kick my ass.

I did it for all the times I didn't get a chance to flip off the asshole behind the wheel. I did it to make me feel a little better at that moment.

Epilogue:
Juvenile? Somewhat.

I understand that by flipping him off, I stooped down to his level, made myself something of a jerk (at least in his eyes). It's entirely possible that doing so caused him to feel defensive, as though he'd been victimized (in a tiny way), because he tried to apologize (in his mind) and I rebuked it in an offensive way. He then was relieved of the need to feel bad about what he did (on the off-chance that he would have done so after that moment of hand raising).

I am, if nothing else, an inappropriately considerate schmuck when I am a schmuck. That's why I don't feel bad about it, and I'm sure, neither does he.

And thus I say to him now: You're welcome.