While I may be a timid driver, I am by no means a timid pedestrian.
I know what you must be thinking—a timid pedestrian? But, it’s a fact. They do exist.
Such creatures are those who commit the following acts while walking in the city: wait out each red light at an intersection even though there aren’t any cars passing through; run to the other side of the street when the “walk” sign is still blinking (the light hasn’t turned red yet, people); and those who start to cross against a light, but then hesitate—while you walk smack into them.
I used to feel a bit insecure that I don’t like to drive much, but ever since my status as a confident NYC walker has recently been compromised, I’ve decided that being considered as a timid or (gasp) slow walker is so much worse.
I blame this ugly rumor on the weather. Due to a weather pattern I have come to discover that hovers above the Hudson River during the winter season, my reputation as an urbanite is now under fire.
For some reason—and I really cannot fathom the science behind this—in Manhattan, unless there’s a blizzard, by the time that I step one foot out of the 33rd Street PATH station, any snow that I mustered through in Hoboken has already become an after thought in the city. Random puddles are the only evidence that some precipitation had fallen.
Can someone please explain this phenomenon to me, since not only am I baffled by this, but also, it makes me look like I’m a slow walker in inclement weather, since I have a tendency to be a little late on “snow days.”
I’m the only employee that treks into work from Hoboken, and without fail, I always seem to be the only one held up from getting a late start due to snow. Coworkers who do not have to cross a river to get to work do not believe when I explain that Hoboken looked like it had magically moved a dozen latitude degrees north when I awoke.
During my first winter working in NYC with a “real” job, during the first snowstorm of that season, I actually questioned if I had to go to work. I decided to call my co-worker and fellow Hobokenite to discuss. She was in the same boat as me—first real job, first snow day in the real world. We decided it was best to talk about this in person, over mugs of oatmeal and coffee in my kitchen. Before we knew it, by the time we finally made it into work, at was around 11 AM—and of course, there was no snow to be found on the streets on NYC.
As a consequence of this mysterious weather pattern, I appear as a timid city walker. But, I’m telling you, it’s real, and it’s out there. I may have been naïve my first snowstorm, but I know for sure now. It’s not me. It’s the Bermuda Triangle of snow over the Hudson.
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