When I was little, the whole ambulance thing completely baffled me. See, I was under the impression that, what with the emergency and all, they were going to go really, really fast no matter what. So the siren was really more for our safety than anything else; if we regular-car people weren’t super-vigilant at every intersection, the thing would have no choice but to crash into us.
If you think about it, I actually came up with the idea for Speed at age six.
I see things differently now, of course. I really wasn’t living here all that long before I stepped out in front of my first ambulance. My theory was that…well, the WALK sign was lit. Okay, but it sounded a lot better in my head.
The point here is that, having grown into my role as a New York City pedestrian, it simply no longer occurs to me that a situation might exist in which I do not have the right-of-way. Which is why it is probably good for my ego–and my health–that I am hardly ever out during rush hour.
This morning, of course, I rolled out of bed at 7am. By 8:00 I was underway on the 1, and then I got to sample the 3 and the shuttle. Mom, that theory that a reverse commute out to Purchase would have been a piece of cake? I beg to differ, because by the time I set foot in Grand Central I had seriously pissed off at least six people, yelled at a man who most likely had a gun on him right then, and still felt insignificant enough to just sink into the ground.
Does anyone remember the last time I got to act like a psycho to strangers and yet still felt completely invisible? It doesn’t happen. I make a memorable psycho.
Seriously, by the time the clock struck 3:00, I kept having to fight the impulse to leap forward every time I heard a siren.
Just to prove that I still could.