On Red and Green Men

In the United Kingdom and Australia, we have the concept of red/green man crossings.  The United States is more verbose and have settled with walk/don't walk, (though that may have fatal implications for 32 million Americans).  

During my time here in Sydney, I have noticed a worrying trend.  The Red man should not be disobeyed.  He is to be feared as a bogeyman, or the cold, dark and frozen soul of an in-law.

Time and time again, I have approached crossings with a Red Man showing, and people of both sexes on both sides; not crossing, even if it is perfectly safe to do so.  They eye each other as if to say "Go on, cross.  Then we can all look upon thee with distain".  See, I can understand that parents with children want to teach their offspring the safe way to cross without them being mangled within the axles of bus.  But when one sees adults linger when it is perfectly safe to go, one wonders if common-sense has lost a drinking-game to overt self-preservation.

This is the country where the inhabitants co-exist with some seriously fucked-up critters.  Surfers deal with sharks and jelly-fish and the landlubbers rub shoulders with spiders, snakes and crocodiles.  And yet, they fear crossing a road that is void of traffic, lest they incur the wrath of the Red Man and he comes for their first-borns during the night.

When I do not have my son with me, I make sure I cross the road when the Red Man is on duty and I feel that I can do so without being smeared over the windscreen of a Holden Commodore.  I feel the gaze on me from the Red Man worshippers, as if I had celebrated Hanukkah with a pork and bacon roll.  I relish this feeling, as I reach the other side.  The gazes now feel somewhat jealous in nature, as if to suggest "Damn, he didn't wipe".

There is hope, though.  On several of these occasions, a nervous member of the Red Man congregation has seen me go, and decided to make a break for it.  Just a few seconds after I have made my move, they follow.  I always wonder if they are feeling the same sense of elation that a former member of the Church of Scientology feels when they realize it's a crock of shit.

There is also cause for concern.  On two occasions I have seen a Sydneysider not cross when the kind and benevolent Green Man is on his watch.  I presume there is a special place in the after-life for these people.  I call this the "Zone reserved for unbelievable pussies".