If you’re texting or reading from your phone while you walk, it’s on you.
You bump into someone? It’s on you.
A turning car almost hits you? It’s on you.
I’ve thought about this. I’ve planned accidents in my head with approaching people who are looking down at their phones. If that chick doesn’t swerve around me, it’s on her. If her coffee spills on her, she pays the cleaning bill. If it spills on me, she pays the cleaning bill. I owe nothing because I’m not the one on my phone.
It’s not up to me to move. I get to walk in my straight path. That’s the privilege of the non-texting person. It’s a reward we earn by resisting the urge to grab the phone.
You may:
√ Walk and text on a deserted street, looking up occasionally to see if it’s still deserted, and (optional) looking down frequently for dog doo.
√ Pull over and text next to a wall.
You may not:
∅ Text on a staircase with someone behind you. Are you kidding me?
∅ Walk and text on a crowded street, leaving it up to others to bob and weave around you, and looking up every block or so with a face that says, “Thank you for the extra effort. I’d look where I’m going, but this is a work email.”
∅ Walk with me in the cold, which is when I’m desperate to reach the heated destination, and slow down to text, saying “Sorry, it’s work.” Again, WE DON’T CARE THAT IT’S WORK. (Though yes, dear husband, I do respect your work. But less so outside in winter.)
The rule should just be no walking and texting, but it can’t be.
It can’t be, because we’re animals who’ve been made addicted by some mad scientist (I won’t say Steve Jobs because RIP and I won’t say Apple because I own some stock, but it’s someone in there. And it could be a lot worse, because these people have the knowledge not just to get us dependent on their technology, but to sew us all mouth-to-anus in the form of a human centipede, a concept I’ve been obsessed with since I saw the trailer).
So now, we addicted, primitive mud creatures need our pellets. We can only go so long without a pellet.
Crack monkeys.
In that vein, I’m not above people who walk and text, because that’s usually me. I am a crack monkey, too. But in that moment when you’re walking and texting and I’m just walking, I AM SUPERIOR. I am homo sapiens, or at least homo erectus, and you are homo hunchback. I have the right of way. I earned it.
If I’m the one walking and texting, shame on me.
The other day, I was doing just that on University Place, and I didn’t see the bum till he was in my face. Why do I call him a bum? Because “homeless” is presumptuous — I don’t know where this guy sleeps, maybe a Highline luxury condo and he just dresses and smells like that — and because of what he did next. As I tried to do the last-second swerve, he stuck out his foot to trip me. Hard. Like we were in the 6th grade cafeteria, but a cafeteria of hate. Today’s specials: fish sticks, turkey tetrazzini, and hot, spitting, vitriol.
It left me with that adrenaline tingle of “I almost just died” and, rightly, shame. That was on me.
Now you.
Let’s discuss walking and texting (which includes the subset of walking and reading.) What do YOU think the rules should be?
If you like, invent punishments as well.
I wonder if the city of NYC would ever employ bums police the texting?
Just a thought…
Our new mayor is trying to get in touch with you, Licia. He wants you to helm the Bum Police Force.
I think its totally acceptable to walk (well, trance/zombie-walk) while texting on Broadway & Spring on a Saturday.
It is, Kenny. That’s the problem. Douche culture thinks it’s just fine, the same way the Chinese think it’s ok to hock loogies. I’m not being racist, I learned that in my Chinese cultural sensitivity training. I’m making that up, and you know it, because you’re Kenny.
“Why do I call him a bum? Because “homeless” is presumptuous — I don’t know where this guy sleeps, maybe a Highline luxury condo and he just dresses and smells like that – and because of what he did next.”
so good. I feel guilty.
You feel guilty because you call them hobos?
I try not to walk and text, or at least move to the side. But not always. I had a guy with a big ass dog tell me to move, so I did the opposite cuz I’m a douchebag that way. No one puts me in the corner! Seriously, if I see someone walking and texting and they’re coming my way, I’m not above walking right into them if it comes to that. Cuz again, I’m a douchebag that way. Lately though, I’ve been trying to be nice and say, “Head’s up!” Unless it’s a really hot guy in a suit, to which I just let him bump into me. Cuz I’m a single woman in Manhattan and I have to meet guys any way I can. People who text while walking up subway steps get pushed or tripped up, cuz that’s just freaking rude!
Oh, I’ll shoulder-check a bitch. In fact, I did that just the other day, same day I was tripped by the bum. And then I yelled, “I learned it from you Dad! I learned it from watching YOU!”
I say “Heads up,” too. And, “WATCH OUT.” Right in their faces. Except, yes, when they’re cute.
You shall not text within any access or egress point of the subway system. Or while leaving the subway car. If you do, I get to elbow you hard.
I *HATE* these people.
Fuck the elbow. You get to slit their throats with a box cutter. You have my permission, in writing.
#1 Don’t walk and text (at the same time).
#2 Every post has to be funny.
Laura Rules!
Too much pressure! I can barely stick with the walk and text rule. #2 scares me, what’s the punishment if I don’t live up?
Your posts often make my day. What a way with words – homo hunchback! To paraphrase the lead character in the TV show “Monk”: I lol’d out loud.
Thank you for quoting Monk in your compliment to me. That’s like a double compliment, because Monk is excellent. I loved the episode with Sarah Silverman as his stalker.
I don’t walk and text because my 18 year old daughter shames me with comments like, “Really? You can’t walk and text at the same time?” Yes, I stop mid step and text, or I walk super slow. Apparently, both are appalling to a teenager.
But…driving into work today, listening to my 1st Wave, which side note, happened to be playing Love & Rocket’s Ball of Confusion (Whaaaatt?? I LOVE that song!) I realized that the guy walking on the sidewalk, with his head in his phone, missed what I saw: A yellow Honda CRX, a woman wearing overalls walking her Doberman and a hipster looking kid, waiting to cross the street, wearing a Members Only jacket.
What the hell?! Is this 2014 or 1984? I don’t know. But I do know that if I was texting and walking I wouldn’t have that question floating in my head this morning.
Things that make you go hmmm…
I met the guy who’s bringing back Members Only jackets! He bought the license and reissued them. So it’s both. It’s 2014 AND it’s 1984. He offered me one. I don’t dare.
Why am I not surprised that you met this guy? Of course you did. And I totally would have taken one! But only if he had a metallic gold one.
And thou shalt not walk, text, AND listen to music, rendering you a near Helen Keller, and the rest of us Angry Anne Sullivans.
Let’s add a baby carriage and a dog on a leash to the Helen Keller mix. At least Helen Keller had an excuse. Though I think she knew better when she ran around the dinner table grabbing food. Yes, Helen, we’d all like to do that.
I walk and text but only when it’s dead, although when shopping I do use my Notes app for my lists & cross off as I go, and I may tweet or text, I guess I could actually be more careful.
Ihave bumped into people in the past but now I just stand to the side of the aisle in front of something as opposed to in the middle of the aisle or even when I’m next in line but not concentrating because I’m too engrossed in a Twitter thread.
But aren’t you blocking the canned corn? I hope you stand in front of something no one wants, like the la choy chow mein mix. Or do people still eat that?