(This is my first diversion from Nature trying to do me in. There are a few of these that made the email circuit. I will probably try to incorporate a few more of the ones that fell between the last of the duck stories and the next Pat v. Nature. Apparently I took about a year off from those emails. I bet nobody even noticed and, in fact, if asked, would say that I sent out "way too damn many of those stupid emails" during that time. Ha! You're wrong! But I did, in fact, fill email boxes with other stuff, so I should include those here so nobody forgets how amusing I can be.)
Today life was kind enough to teach me two more very important lessons while I was out for a walk. Well, one important lesson and one incredibly earth shattering revelation if one of my two hypotheses pans out.
The two hypotheses are as follows—I will get them out in the open and explain both of them in turn:
1) Republicans are trying to kill me.
Or
2) When I am driving my car, walking on or along roads, or riding my bike, I am invisible to 90% of the driving population. This only pertains to when I am in motion, not when I am stopped (at an intersection or light or turning or whatever).
Let me begin with #2 and I think you will all agree that my reasoning is sound, if not utterly flawless and inarguable.
First, let me make it crystal clear to everyone that I don’t claim to have any supernatural powers or anything like that (though, of course, I’m not ruling that out, but since I’m always alone when these things happen to me, I have no way of verifying that me and whatever means of transportation I’m using are ACTUALLY invisible, and I don’t want to sound “crazy,” so I will instead just disavow any chances for supernatural activity, just to play it safe). But, over more than a decade of city driving, I have learned to adopt a very attentive approach to dealing with other vehicles on the road. I have long surmised that people, for some inexplicable reason, just do not see me, and today’s events are helping me feel even more secure in the validity of my hypothesis.
Here are a few examples of changes that I have made to my driving over the years to compensate for this phenomenon. Let’s say that I am driving along the road and I come to an intersection. Crossing traffic has stop signs on either side, so I have the undisputed right of way. Time and many, many close calls have taught me to ALWAYS assume that the driver who is stopped at the stop sign will not wait for me to cross the intersection but will, instead, either drive right across the intersection in front of me or will turn into my lane of traffic, cutting me off outright. Now I always approach EVERY intersection as though I have at least a yield sign in front of me. During freeway driving, I have taken to driving in the middle lane as often as possible because this gives me a lane to swerve into when another car tries to simultaneously occupy the same place in my lane that I am existing in. Or, while driving down the street, if I see that a person is attempting a left turn from oncoming traffic ahead of me and there are no other cars around me, I invariably take my foot off the gas as I approach and hold my foot over the brake to allow me that extra second to slam and swerve.
These are just a few examples. Imagine how you would have to change your driving if you were driving down unlit streets in the middle of the night without your headlights on. This is how I try to drive whenever I am alone in my car. Well, it might not be THAT bad, but I do have to pay extra attention, and I know that this extra attention has prevented me from getting into over two dozen accidents over the years—and that seems like an extraordinarily high number of near misses to me--thus, I must be invisible.
Anyway, that was my pre-existing hypothesis and today it was nudged just a little closer to law while I was out for a walk. The weather was a bit balmy today, but the temperature was quite nice compared to what we’ve had here for the last week. So I decided to take advantage of it with an afternoon walk (I’m out of school for another week and a half and, though I’m sure I have “productive” things I could be doing, I’m trying my level best to be the laziest person I possibly can be during this break—so far it’s working gang-busters). Because I don’t like walking down the streets any more than I have to when I am alone (I’ve always had a sinking suspicion that my life was in jeopardy every time I did, but never linked it to my invisibility until today), I took the bike path down to athletic park and decided to walk a few laps around the park. This park, I’m sure you will all remember, is where I usually do my bike riding (again, so I can stay off the public streets as much as possible).
While on the bike path, everything was perfectly fine. Even the ducks where getting out of my way as I approached—though there was a bit of a tense moment when one of the neighborhood geese gave me the eye, but I stared him down and established my dominance (or at least he let me think that until a better opportunity arises). Once I got to the park, however, things started going pear shaped almost immediately.
All along the west and north sides of the park’s road, there are perpendicular parking stalls. All of the park’s playground equipment and the city swimming pool are along these sides of the road. People who use these facilities park here. In the center of the road that circles the park, there is a football field (and an amphitheatre, tennis courts, horse shoe pits, and a big, open stretch of grass for doing whatever people like to use big, open stretches of grass for). For the last seven or eight months, the city has been doing some work on the football field and its parking lot. So, now, besides the park-goers’ vehicles, there are usually numerous trucks belonging to city employees, contractors, and assorted hourly workers parked in the stalls along the road.
As I said before, when I walk, I try to avoid being on the road as much as possible—this is no different in the park. I try to stick to the sidewalks if I can. But today, thanks to the construction, large swathes of the sidewalk were blocked off and inaccessible. So I had to steer around them by walking along the side of the road. And when I say, “side of the road,” I mean it. If my legs had a suspension system, it would be shot from how often I bump into the curb. And when I see or hear cars coming, I try to jump onto the curb or a few feet into the grass to get out of the road (I’m sure you people are all thinking I’m some sort of crazy paranoid, but you’ll soon see why I act and think the way I do).
So, as I was straying very slightly into the left side of the road to go around the construction nets, I noticed that one of the contractor trucks was backing out of the stall--an electrician, though that has nothing to do with the story. He was about ten yards in front of me and on the opposite side of the road, so I stopped for a bit to let him pull out. He backed out of the stall, and kept backing clear to the opposite side of the road, where he snugged parallel with the left-side curb AND KEPT COMING BACK for no apparent reason. Of course, I hopped up onto the curb, tangling myself slightly in the orange construction netting and just getting me out of his way. When he stopped, I gave the back of the guy’s truck a smack, since it was less than a foot away from me. Either he didn’t notice the thump or he didn’t want to notice since he’d almost backed over me--and he sped away.
On his back bumper there was a Todd Tiahrt (R-KS) sticker and a Bush/Cheney ’04 sticker.
That was all well and good. I passed it off as just another prick driver who wasn’t paying attention and continued my walk.
Then, on the south side of the park road, where there are fewer parking stalls and before the sidewalk starts back up again, I was once again forced to walk on the side of the road. This half of the circular road around the park, for some reason known only to a stoned city planner somewhere, is one-way. And I was walking with the traffic—but still on the left hand side of the road where, presumably, I would be safe.
Unfortunately, we had a glut of rain this morning—only about an inch, I guess, but it came fast enough that puddles are still sitting along most of the roadsides. As I approached one of these puddles, I hopped up onto the curb and walked along the rather sizeable puddle of water (but not TOO sizable, it jutted out from the curb MAYBE two feet), and just as I reached the middle of it, I heard a car coming up behind me. I didn’t even look back, since I assumed I was well out of harm’s way. But the driver, subjected to way too many contrived sitcoms in his lifetime, swung over to my side of the road and hit the puddle with malicious intent, splashing me quite thoroughly.
He was driving a late 80s model Oldsmobile Cutlass with a Dole/Kemp sticker on his bumper.
Now, I’m willing to give that driver the benefit of the doubt and assume that he wasn’t trying to kill me, just prove that humanity, no matter how advanced, is still mostly populated with assholes. But, who knows? Maybe his beat up old piece of crap car just couldn’t clear the curb.
So I ask all of you, which of my two hypotheses is more plausible? The first driver clearly helps prove my theory that I’m invisible, while the second driver almost certainly saw me. As far as the Republicans trying to do away with me goes . . . I have never believed that the massive right-wing conspiracy has an illegally acquired database of all registered Democrats and that they actively try to do harm to or disrupt the lives of the people that they—the Republicans—disagree with. I want my Republican friends to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I think this is a load of hooey. And I strongly encourage them to pass this on to their other Republican friends at their next big $1000 a plate shindig.
Actually, now that I think about it a little more clearly, I wish to retract my earlier theory that Republicans are trying to kill me. In fact, I think I see now that, really, those fine, upstanding citizens were only trying to help me make a better, more attentive walker out of myself. Tough love and such like. I really respect them for their firm hand approach on this matter. Really. Totally. Good people. I certainly don’t wonder if some of them have heightened senses for slightly left-leaning view points—like a crazy pig can smell fear. That is preposterous.
So, definitely, I’m invisible when I’m moving on public roads. No doubt about it. Man, I’m crazy! Must be. Totally harmless, too.
(Crap, I gotta find a good way out of this story before I bury myself.)
Which brings me to the second life lesson that I learned—the not earth shattering revelation one (which was that I’m invisible and most certainly not being stalked by Republicans who wish me harm and/or humiliation, in case any of you were having problems following my not-entirely-clear story-telling style today). Exercise and Pat Albers don’t mix. Bad things always happen to me when I try to do the right thing. So, from now on, it’s all couch sitting and Freedom Fries eating for this one!
Responses
Alright. I'd like to say this is getting out of hand, but it has given me fresh emails to read every day for awhile now, so I consider this a worthwhile endeavor all the way around (especially since this is the first I've heard from many of you in quite awhile).
As I was sitting here trying to think up a response to all the emails I've received, I briefly considered apologizing to all of the people on this mailing list who fall into the Cursing-The-Cruel-Fates-For-Crossing-My-Path-With-The-Crazy-Ranting-Spammer category, and to those of you who, though you will fondly remember me and say kind words about me when I am gone, largely find me annoying and wish I would just get a real job that kept me off the computer for the majority of the rest of my life, but, then I decided that I would, instead, just curse the cruel fates along with some of you and ask those others of you to calmly bide your time and remember how gentle I am with cute, fluffy kittens and how, that one time, I pushed that bum out of the way and was hit by the bus instead. If you don't remember that story, but would like to remember me fondly for that brave act, give me some time and I'll come up with some way to introduce it to your memory of me in a way that casts a most favorable light.
Now, I feel I need to respond specifically to a few of the emails I've read over the past few days.
Ben--Killjoy. Logic is such a wonderful, mental tool, but it has no place in the fantasy world of my poor little brain (that reminds me, I heard a funny word on the radio this afternoon--gynecologic, though the simple addition of a dash makes it a far more interesting word, gyneco-logic, think about it, it entertained my brain for nearly ten minutes). OF COURSE the law of averages says that, if two people from a state predominantly populated with Republican supporters try to kill me in a single day, it is entirely probable that both of those drivers will have supported Republicans in the past--just because MOST of the people in this state have previously supported Republicans. It is also a well-known fact that most people who aren't "me" can't drive (I put quotes around that because it is the universal ME, applying always to whoever is speaking, who is always a fantastic driver). And, while I certainly respect the necessity for such logic in a crazy, world gone mad, I have but one simple word to say to you that fully sums up my feelings on the matter--BAH.
Caleigh--Believe me, there were no cell phones involved. Now, while I appreciate the fact that you were trying to branch out of the chosen topic of diatribe a bit, I'm afraid I can't just let this one idly slide by because, frankly, if I did, it would be casting my ability to remember certain details in a rather untrustworthy light (and where would I be if you people weren't believing that all of these emails were 100% true from start to finish?). Think about it. I am the type of person who, after nearly being run over by an Electrician's van, looks at the bumper stickers instead of doing the logical thing--either taking down the license plate number or remembering the van's number and committing the How's My Driving 1-800 number to memory for future tirades to the company's customer support line (whose employees I have the utmost respect and, I'm afraid, pity for--customer service is the devil's work and anyone who does it most surely has rested themselves a favorable place in the afterlife, while those who call customer support lines and treat those same employees like shit are, I can only hope, going to be spending a great deal of the afterlife on the wrong end of angry and rude phone conversations). Thus, it stands to reason, I would also notice whether or not the person was using a cell phone. That falls into the same story-telling vein, I think, as what bumper stickers they have prominently displayed, and, thus, is worthy of my silly little brain's notation.
Jesse--While I certainly like the idea of you and I running for office, I'm afraid that it is impossible. Not only are we both too young for at least the next two elections (35, isn't it? I can't remember. But certainly the majority of the population wouldn't vote for a couple of whippersnappers who were younger than 45 or so--that just stands to reason with the crotchety bunch of baby-boomers still coherent enough to be driven to the ballot boxes in November and vastly outnumbering all of us younger generations who are still far too apathetic to wake up early enough, if at all, to fill in a few ovals with a pencil), but there is actually a little known law that makes it technically and, apparently, constitutionally impossible as well. Back in 1919, one sly politician slid a rider into the Prohibition Amendment (number something-teen, if I'm not mistaken) that reads as follows: "Every 'minor' state in the Union shall be allowed only one (1) 'major party' Presidential nominee every 150 years." This was passed because, hey, nobody wanted to be "that guy who voted against that popular amendment" even if the amendment was, by in large, completely retarculous, so all kinds of crazy laws were passed along with it. Why do you think there even IS a Texas still? Anyway, since pretty much every state but Texas, Florida, California, New York, and, for some reason, Ohio are considered "minor" states, and since Bob Dole was kind enough to use up Kansas' one go in my lifetime, we're pretty much screwed for that idea. Unless, of course, we want to start a third party called the Sweet Ass Party. I don't imagine they'd view us as much of a threat, that's for sure, so we'd probably be safe as official candidates.
OK. I think that's all of the responses that need responses, as I recall. Glad I could help, or keep people's mailboxes full, or whatever.
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