Walking in South Africa

You know, I’m not always a fan of leaving the house.  It’s comfortable here – I have blankets, pillows, my two dogs, and unlimited ability to stream videos. Despite the fact that I am a tiny old lady hermit at heart, I do actually make an effort to go outside and see the sun (as my terrible tan line would suggest).

The problem with leaving the house: people. I don’t have a car so I walk or take uber.  The problem with uber is that sometimes you mistake another car for your uber and the driver of that car thinks you are a hooker and turns you down (it’s really like a double insult), but also that sometimes they want to make small talk.  Yes, I’m married. Yes, I live here. Yes, please stop talking.

The problem with walking is pretty much the same as the problem with leaving the house. People. It’s like I have a massive sign on my back that says, “please kick me right in the vagina. I really would love it.”

I usually walk with headphones in because hearing the same guy yell, “hey baby” four different times from four different locations is not my favourite activity. Seriously though, dude, what are you actually expecting from this interaction? I didn’t acknowledge you the first or second time so what gives you the bright idea to continue.  I mean, honestly.  Please go back to the drawing board and rethink your life plan.

Listen, I just want to get to where I’m going in peace and without you impeding my life with your stupid catcalls or you touching me.  And yes, people have done that BECAUSE THAT’S TOTALLY NORMAL TO WALK UP TO A STRANGER AND JUST STROKE THEM. WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO INTERACT WITH PEOPLE? WE ARE LITERALLY ON THE STREET AT 11AM? WHY?

Anyway. Today, I got tapped by a car (see, I’ve learned in the past 4 hours that if I say I got hit by a car (which speaking from a level of semantics I was) then the world pretty much implodes. I was just walking minding my own business and suddenly I’m flung forward by a sideview car mirror like I’m in the middle of a belligerent drunk man baby pissing match (no, I am not sure what that actually looks like).  In that moment, I think I just said to myself, “wait, did that car just hit me? is this real life? it is broad daylight and this car just tapped me like I was an immobile piece of cattle in the way.”

And then, they didn’t stop. BECAUSE WHY WOULD THAT HAPPEN? Why would we ever stop if we have gently trying to run over a tiny hermit? THAT’S JUST TOO MUCH.

AND THEN, the lady in the back of the car is staring at me all hard with the window open as if she’d like to say something, but doesn’t.  I think I might have been filled with so much human fueled annoyance that I couldn’t even react. The angry lindsay who lives in my amygdala was basically like, “THIS BITCH IS REALLY BOUT TO STARE AT ME AFTER SHE WATCHED ME GET HIT BY A CAR THAT SHE’S RIDING IN.” However, calmer minds prevailed and I did what I do best. I kept walking.

Luckily, after scaring the entire life out of like 5 people – I got ice cream and brownies which makes things reasonably acceptable.

Here are today’s life lessons:

  1. Leave the pedestrians alone. JUST LET US LIVE.
  2. Don’t tap above-mentioned pedestrians with your car because that’s really just rude.
  3. If you are an above-mentioned pedestrian, its probably a reasonable idea to walk around with a life-jacket, a helmet, and plastic wrapped brownies (because you wouldn’t want asphalt in your brownies if you get hit by an asshole).
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