The Full NelsonRecently, I felt like I've let down Madison. I do my best to succeed in the tenets of all things Madison, and I think I've held up my end of the deal, except in one vastly important area—jaywalking.
Jaywalking is a veritable Madison institution, it seems like those who are born here could jaywalk with their eyes closed—although, that's probably not recommended. It seems the city planners designed Madison to be the perfect jaywalking city, even though the term didn't exist when Madison was created. This dedication to jaywalkifying the city actually shows tremendous foresight on the part of the planners.
However, those who move to the city from other areas, like me, have much to live up to in the field of jaywalking. I thought my skills were not that shabby—then the troubles started.
I don't know why my jaywalking ability escaped me, but I suddenly found myself contemplating not crossing when the hand flashed orange. Instead of skating over the icy roads to complete my jaywalking maneuvers, I started slipping on the ice.
Sometimes at the end of a long jaywalking journey, the jump onto the snow bank ended in tragedy—sometimes I thought the snow was soft and I'd factor that into my jump, only to mess up my ankles on landing. The converse of that also held true when I incorrectly judged the snow bank as hard snow only to end up on the ground as a sad puddle of Kevin.
My worst endeavor occurred recently, when I was walking home from the store with two heaping helpings of groceries. I looked and noticed the street I needed to cross was relatively clear, a simple jaywalk across the way would take me home. But nothing is ever simple.
As I walked across the street I'm pretty certain a stretch of road suddenly bumped up in a diabolical attempt to trip me. Luckily I caught myself, but had the street succeeded in its plans, I would have hit the ground hard and then been run over by a car. Worst of all, another car would have smushed my groceries. That would make my Gushers gush on their own—a tragedy of immense proportions.
I did survive this encounter with the street, but my faith in my jaywalking was rather shaken. I thought I just couldn't do it. Then my savior came.
While sticking to the sidewalk on Langdon street—not even thinking about jaywalking, for fear of my life—I saw her. A woman jaywalking her way merrily across the street. A car buzzed by her—most people would have been startled—but she immediately responded Why don't you honk your horn? It's not like I have flippin' ESP or anything!\
I realized she was correct. She did not have flippin' ESP, and neither did I. Yet, she still wowed me with her wanton disregard for the law in order to stick to the conventions of Madison. Sure, jaywalking is technically illegal, however, it's expected in this city.
It doesn't matter that she was the one walking down the middle of the street, it didn't matter that the car had its lights on and was clearly visible. Oh no, she soldiered on and expressed anger that anyone would think about wrecking her jaywalking fun.
Inspired by this random drunken prophet's teachings, I regained my jaywalking mojo. Her callous disregard for any and everyone made me realize it doesn't matter if your Madisonian or Minnesotan, you can still jaywalk like a pro.
Send jaywalking revelations to kevinnelson@wisc.edu\
