How I became a New York street walker

It wasn’t always like this. I actually grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania with my parents and two sisters, where the pace is slow and the people kind. It was a typical childhood, and I only moved to the New York area after college so I would have a better chance of finding a job.

If my mother saw me on the streets today, she would be ashamed of me and frightened for me all at once. My friends, unfortunately, don’t have the pleasure of ignorance. They see me everyday, and have to deal with my habits. One day, they say, it will all catch up to me.

I cannot help it, though. I was once so sweet and innocent, it seemed, and now I harbor a bad attitude. I will stare you down if I want…and you will react promptly…and you will allow me to saunter across the street. Pedestrians do have the right of way, and I will walk any way I want to walk.

It only gets worse as time goes on. It starts to spiral out of control. When I first got here I was demure, waiting patiently by the side of the road. But now, I just charge out there. Whether you see me or not, you had better stop, because I am heading out into the street toward your car.

It nearly did catch up to me the other day, but luckily a good friend saved my life when my impatience and spaciness got the best of me. She prevented me from charging into a very dangerous situation.

The danger is everywhere on the New York streets. Cars zoom by me. They fly around the corner. Who knows if they will stop, right? I only hope they will. The better for me.

You always have to be on alert on the streets of New York, but sometimes I just forget. It is easy to forget. There are usually others all around. Taking the same chances. Waiting for the same thing – a quick opportunity to cross the street between rush hour traffic so your boss doesn’t scream at you for being late for the third day in a row. – Amanda Koch (The author is a frequent Current contributor.)

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