Walking in the City

Come with me, walk with me

Walking in my city

Una passeggiata, you and I 

I had a lot of time for pondering during my road trip across the country. Somewhere along the way, probably after being pulled over by a very kind state trooper in South Dakota who let me off with a warning, I began to analyze my tendency to speed. It’s in my blood, quite honestly – the Wheelers are known for having lead feet. But I still wanted to parse out the specifics.

My uncle Gene, having married into this crazy family, has mentioned before that the motto seems to be ‘pass just one more car.’ (Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him say this, or if I’m only recollecting my aunt Carol quoting him, so take it with a grain of salt. Wheelers also have a tendency to improve upon quotations. No offense meant, Aunt Carol.) 

Regardless of the origination of this quippy phrase, the truth resonates. Somehow, it just feels more comfortable to be out in front with a span of open road ahead and all the traffic behind. Elbow room, even for our cars, isn’t that the American Way?

For me, it seems almost a game of strategy. I feel like a master at tactical maneuvers if I can manage to get around the guy who’s traveling slowly in the left lane before getting trapped behind him when the traffic in the right lane catches up.

So what does this have to do with walking in NYC? Well, without my car, I need an outlet for all my latent tactical skills. Bobbing and weaving around the tourists along with the businessfolk is very satisfying. It’s also good practice, walking with purpose. From a safety standpoint, it can only help for me to look like I know what I’m doing.

Of course, until that glorious day when I can pop out of the subway and have an innate sense of which direction I am facing, this will continue to result in wrong turns. As it happens, looking like I know what I'm doing and actually knowing what I'm doing are two different things. The signs at each exit that tell me which cross street I’ll be popping out onto don’t seem to help. Even the ones that say “NE corner” mean little-to-nothing in my mind. I squint at them and try to think of what meaning they are attempting to convey, and then I give up. Reading maps has never been my forte, much to my mother’s dismay.

It would be of great benefit if I would sit down with my smart phone and figure out how to make it show me the map relative to which direction I am pointed. But until I do that, I continue to wing it. The result, which has been at least a daily occurrence, is that I bluster off in the wrong direction for a block or so until I realize that the street numbers are going the wrong way, or the Empire State Building is actually *behind* me, not in front. Flushed and frustrated, I zip back around and arrive at my destination a few minutes later than expected. It’s all a part of the game, and this tactician will just have to get better at it.