When walking to work, I have to walk up above the mighty I-5 on a pedestrian walkway. In more litigious parts of the world, there would be some sort of chain link barrier to keep people from either doing a lemming or from forcing someone else into doing a lemming. But not so here, there is nothing but a thigh high guard rail above a 6 story fall to North and South bound traffic to hold back suicidal/homicidal urges.
Honestly, I’ve always sort of feared this part of the trek, but I’ve tried to trick myself into thinking that I haven’t. I walk right up against the guard rail and look down at those asphalt lanes stretching off towards Canada, towards Portland. But it’s not the heights that I fear, fuck the heights, it’s falling off and then, adding insult to injury being pounded flat by a car.
And more honestly, it’s a fear of being pushed off.
I can only assume that that meaty little evil fucking part of the brain that occasionally spews out bad ideas in a laugh-hoarse whisper has convinced me that if it had occurred to me that someone might attempt to push somebody off of the overpass and into traffic, than it has occurred to everybody. Last week, I skirted by an adorable little waif in a Catholic school skirt at a flat out run.
And this morning, seriously, there was this guy that just seemed unstable. If unstable had a smell like cabbage and worn brakes, this guy would smell like it. He had on second hand suit pants and jacket and red tennis shoes. Oh, and a ubiquitous beanie. That’s not what did it though. It was that and the combination of the quick head jerks he would make as he was walking along, that and the red beard. Guys with beards, I tell you… I got caught having to walk past him on the freeway overpass and damn it if my breathing didn’t get all clipped and spotty. I had to keep my fists clenched tightly to keep my hands from flailing wildly and screaming like a eunuch jumping into snow melt. Plus I was sure the guy kept jerking his head over to look at me while I passed him.
He didn’t push me, obviously, but this is a fear that creeps through my head like a shadow every morning. It’s not keeping me from leaving the house or anything, but I wouldn’t mind drinking heavily before crossing. But then we would move from the realm of irrational fear and probably on into self-fulfilling prophecy.
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4 comments:
I know what you mean by irrational fears.
Like when right after you take a huge gulp of water at a business meeting with a high-power client--you feel a slight tickle in the depths of your throat automatically triggering a slight cough, which in turn forces all of the liquid out of your mouth and into the client's face.
Or if as you are leaning out over the railing to get your bearings on 4th floor balcony escalator at the mall, some punk kid decides to run away from his pack of friends in a laughing fit of jokiness and accidentally slams directly into you. Which in turn flips you over the rail... by which you now dangle by just your wedding ring lodged in-between the metal brace and the acrylic safety retrofit.
Or that as a plane is taking off over your home in its regular flightpath, that suddenly the wings will rip off and the plane plummits down towards you in a loud burst of fire, except all the directions to run have been blocked by people who are standing and staring upwards. Everyone screams, but is frozen in place and you can't do anything except accept the inevitable and pray for a quick demise.
Wow man, how do you leave the house?
You might wanna take that "kick me"
sign off your back.
In order to leave the house, or go to the mall I have devised an extensive set of checks and balances into my daily life-routine to circumvent this overactive imagination.
I tell you, being a creative genius does have it's pitfalls. (...and don't get me started on being an evil funk genius!)
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