There’s a number of intersections that I drive through on the way to work.  Several of them have a warning side that reads “State law requires drivers to yield right of way to any pedestrian within crosswalk.”

I’ve always taken that phrase literally.  Remember how you read fantasy books as a kid, and there was always some dangerous, mysterious land that you could only navigate through safely by staying on the enchanted path?  That’s how I interpreted the crosswalk sign.  A pedestrian was safe as long as he or she stayed within the narrow confines of the marking, but any deviation from the path and it was all Death Race 2000.

Yesterday a pedestrian ambled very, very slowly along the crosswalk.  I had a green light, but he didn’t care. He just kept moving slowly, passing in front of my car as though he was out to pick flowers.

I watched him very closely.  His foot came very close to stepping outside the crosswalk.

Finally, he stepped completely outside the crosswalk.  I decided to test my theory. I slammed on the gas.

The police arrived on the scene quickly, but eyewitnesses verified my story: the guy had stepped outside the crosswalk.  The cop crumpled up the citation and said “Too bad for the guy, but he knew the rules.”

I started to get back into my car, but the cop stopped me: “Off the record, sir, I’d like to give you my personal thanks.  That slow walking, red-light crossing guy had pissed off most of the town.”