People Are Weird

The Cars That Ate Paris

I was walking home, up MacArthur Street crossing over St Andrew's Place when a white Camry turned right into St Andrew's Place without stopping for me. “Give way to pedestrians,” I said. I made a WTF gesture with my hands in the air and called him an idiot, as one does. Then I kept walking. Fools who don't know the road laws, I lamented to myself, shaking my head. And that was that.

I was listening to KD Lang on my headphones. She has a great voice, I never knew.

He drove up the next street, on the other side of the small park just there, Parliament Place and turned into Cathedral Place, the street at the other end, and appeared to be waiting for me with his passenger side window open at the end of the footpath at the top of the hill. But the car was on such an angle that I couldn’t really see inside, it was just a car with an open window, waiting. It was the threatening open window, a portal into shadows, with the promise of… what? I didn't know. Fat, entitled, dented male ego retribution, or some shit. Another hard done by, straight male. Perhaps he had a gun? Well, who knows what the crazies are up to? Was this footpath rage? Well, I guessed it was still road rage as he was driving a car.

Fine, I thought, I’m up for a discussion. Learn your fucking road rules, I said under my breath.

The still car gave off a threatening vibe, like a face with no features. As I got closer, however, he turned left into MacArthur Street and rolled slowly back down the hill in my direction. He rolled passed me slowly and stopped, as though he was being confrontational, but scared at the same time, or some such fucking thing, I don’t know. It was odd behaviour. I saw his face for the first time, momentarily, dead eyes, expressionless, but he rolled too far, intentionally, or not, I don’t know. I was left again staring at a car with an open window, into which, again, I couldn’t really see. Are you scared little man, I thought. (Bullies are always cowards) What a completely useless show of confrontation.

I’m guessing he wanted me to go over to his car, but the footpath is wider there so I didn't have to get close enough to make eye contact.

"Learn your road rules, you moron," I called out to him, but I really couldn’t be bothered with it anymore, so I kept walking, not willing to waste any more of my time. It was odd, really odd. And that was that.

Why he came back for a second bite of the cherry, as they say, and had then turned mute at the very last minute, I have no idea.

From there all the way to the other side of Victoria Parade, it is difficult for a car to stalk a pedestrian, what with the one-way lanes and the permanent and impermanent barriers, so I felt safe from the white Camry. Moron, I thought. But as I headed through the side streets of Fitzroy and then the smaller streets, I imagined him suddenly appearing at the end of Little Victoria Street (Has anyone seen the film Dual?) And me with my noise cancelling head phones on, I probably wouldn't hear him coming up behind me. I probably would know anything until his bumper hit the backs of my knees.

People are weird, I thought, as I nonchalantly glanced back over my shoulder... a few times.

I, of course, didn't see him again.