Flickr photo by Karl Gunnarsson.

(adapted from thenutmeat.com)

Before we moved to the Pacific Northwest some 8 years ago, I was visiting on a solo trip to house hunt and job schmooze.  After finishing a very satisfying Indian lunch, I called my husband from my Thrifty rent-a-cheap to brag about my discoveries and the extreme awesomeness that was Seattle.  We had yet to discover the passive-aggressive nutbagery we would come to know later as the "Seattle Freeze" and I was full of optimistic oblivion.

After I hung up the phone, without warning, out of the corner of my eye I saw a gray flash.

And then it happened.

An older woman, a grandma, that looked like she was straight out of central casting, stepped off the curb, into the crosswalk and walked right in front of my car.  Right in front.  As my heart leapt out of my chest and blood drained from my head, I slammed on the brakes as hard as I ever have in my life and braced my hands on the steering wheel.  But she was too close.

I hit her.

Hard.

I can only describe the sound of a car hitting a human body like the sound of a tennis shoe in a dryer.  Muffled loud thuds that cause an unsettling cringe.   She launched, caught air and flew all the way up onto my windshield in a split second moment of horror that seemed to last an eternity.  As my tires screeched and smoked, and the car slid to a stop, she rolled--yes rolled--back down off the hood of the car onto the ground.  I will never forget those 5 seconds before I sprung from the car.  For all I knew I had just killed someone.  It was possible.  Having even a fraction of a moment of your life when you think that maybe, just possibly, you may have just killed someone is beyond explanation.  Oh, and did I mention she was a grandma?  The horror.

I flew out of the car with the engine still running and music still playing on the radio.  Suddenly traffic stopped, customers rushed out of the surrounding stores, passers-by scrambled to help.  It was a full-blown scene worthy of helicopter news coverage.

Everyone else got to her first.  A woman instantly fell to her knees to cradle grandma’s head and started in with the shouting.

“Can you hear me?  Can you move?   Say something!”

It was one of those moments that appeared to happen in slow motion.  Everyone was completely consumed by the well-being of this poor woman and as the seconds ticked by you could see the realization slowly cross their faces as they looked up one by one in my direction.  The tone of their judgmental glares was unanimous.

Who in the hell would hit a grandma?

I must have looked insane... like I would explode into a million evil grandma-hitting pieces at any moment, because for whatever reason a few sympathetic gawkers pulled me aside to assure me that they saw the whole thing.  I couldn’t have prevented it.  They recreated the incident and said they witnessed her literally step right out into the road as if there weren’t a car for miles.  There was also a sudden disdain among the witnesses for this particular downside of the Seattle pedestrian lifestyle.

I would come to learn over time that the Seattle pedestrian absolutely rules all.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.  The well-known mentality is, “Oh, you’re gonna stop buddy”. Even if that causes you to lay rubber or bob and weave.  The man on foot is king here and he knows it.  It’s reckless and insane, but for whatever reason, if there is a crosswalk--or even it there's not frankly-- and someone within a block radius is on foot…prepare to stop.  Where I come from, you let any vehicle pass before you dare set foot on the pavement.  You know, because a car can kill you.  Isn’t that what we’re taught as children?  “Look both ways before you cross the street kids.”  Why?  So you don’t get mowed down by a machine 10 times your size.  Always seemed like a logical argument to me.  In every Man v. Car battle, I’m pretty sure the car wins.

Not in Seattle.  Pedestrians absolutely own the streets and there is an unspoken power of the true footloose and fancy-free.

This crosswalk was particularly dangerous the witnesses agreed.  It was placed in the middle of the block, away from the main stoplights to better serve the almighty pedestrian.  Nice work city planners.  Grandma and I aren’t sure this worked.

The consolation of the crowd didn’t last long because, surprisingly, grandma started talking.  Funny enough, it actually sounded like she might be shouting.  Either way, this seemed like good news.  We all ran back to her side and leaned over to see.  The crowd parted to reveal grandma trying to sit up and shaking her finger...holy crap... at me!

“That woman hit me with her car!  I was IN THE CROSSWALK!! That woman hit me with her car!”

As if every single person there didn’t already know this.  Good of her to shout and point it out though.  The blood started leaving my head again and I felt like I might throw up.  The crowd now turned for the second time in 10 minutes to cast their looks of disapproval and disgust in my direction.  It reminded me of the scene out of the Princess Bride where Princess Buttercup is in the courtyard and the crazy village lady says,

“Bow to the Queen of slime, the Queen of filth, the Queen of Putrescence.  Boo.  Boo.  Rubbish. Filth. Slime.  Muck.  Boo. Boo. Boo!”

Boo indeed.  Grandma hitters are a real buzz kill.

I'll spare you the details of the aftermath except to tell you that, thankfully, grandma was ok.  The ambulance took her away and the geriatric-tagger here got a ticket (because SHE WAS IN THE CROSSWALK!! HELLO!)  Life went on, save one small fact.

Now I’m terrified of anyone on foot and I punch the brakes if I even sense someone sipping their coffee from a block away.

What’s worse is now I’ve even become passive-aggressive about it.  “No, please. YOU GO. I’m going 50 miles an hour, but allow me to grind to a screeching halt so you don’t have to wait 3.7 seconds.” (Smile)

Seattle Freeze for pedestrians.  Totally ok.