As a newly-converted pedestrian, I interact with people on the street far more than I did two months ago. People walking their dogs send and receive a friendly "hello," one of the kids smoking cigarettes on the stoop exchanges nods with me, I throw a smile at an attractive young woman and cast my eyes down before I can register a response, and I am usually more than happy to throw a dollar here and there to those on the street who ask for it. Today, I had an older gentleman ask me where me might find the laundromat two doors away from my apartment building. He apparently had some job to do there. I, of course, was happy to oblige, and let him know we were just two blocks away. He thanked me. Naturally, we were going the same way when the crosswalk light signaled to use we could cross, so we started off at the same time.

Thus it begins.

There was a car stopped with its fender halfway through the crosswalk. No big deal. When I had a car, I was guilty of this and worse. As a pedestrian, I have no problem with this situation. I mean, they're stopped.

This guy, on the other hand, has a problem with the situation. He yells at the guy in the car. I'm embarassed as fuck. Step up the pace, man. Leave this guy behind.

No such luck. He didactically goes off an a diatribe about how nothing pisses him off like people with the cars nosed into the crosswalk. Did I hear about the woman who got killed this morning? I hadn't. I told him I had, intending to avoid prolonging this conversation any further. I'd have one more "Yeah, it's a damn shame," and we'd be plain out of things to talk about.

Naive, I know. I get the story anyway, even though it lacked all relevance: a garbage truck ran a red light and killed and injured the people in a pickup. I assure him I don't drive in as dismissive a way as possible.

Then I hear how he can barely see because he's been hit by cars a bunch. I'm not arguing that this isn't sad; I'm arguing that I didn't want to hear any of this. But I'm not the kind of person who can just fall back or run ahead of someone to end a street conversation. Especially not when I'm beginning to get the impression this guy might be slightly psychotic. His next story convinces me further: A couple days ago, he misread an incident of a guy walking behind him. One might say that he turned and "stepped to" this guy, who he angered. Then he's convinced a couple days later, this guy took three shots at him near the Salt Lake Public Library.

The last thing one wants to hear is that a guy like this has a gun. Chances are, he does. But one still dones't want to know. But he wants to tell one. He'll be ready next time this guy makes a move.

Scratch that. The last thing one wants to hear is that a guy like this with a gun knows where one lives. You know, in case he misread one of my exhausted mm-hmms. Just to be cautious, I duck behind the neighboring apartment building.