On Nose Picking and Ear Wax Digging

Yesterday I was on a drive through the streets of Langley. Mock the “going for a drive” all you want; I know it is healthier for me and the environment to walk or bike, but I don’t care and I love to drive. On a sunny day, it usually involves the window down, a Tim Horton’s large 1-and-1, and possibly some great 1980’s music, possibly Glass Tiger or Corey Hart. The only thing missing is my mullet blowing in the wind and the collar of my pink polo shirt flipped up. I’ll let that image settle for a minute.












At every stop light, I usually take the time to look around who is around me. I am the awkward guy in the car that you usually make eye contact with and then you don’t know where to look. I search out nose-pickers, ear wax diggers, karaoke singers, parent-yellers, and pedestrian crossers. You can usually find three or four at any given stop light. If lucky, you can actually make the clean sweep. Personally, there is nothing that makes me chuckle more than a solid karokee performance, although catching a nose-picker is awkward and brilliant all at the same time.

Yesterday though, I observed an older couple on a walk waiting to cross on a red light. They did something that reminded me of little children, only to realize that I do it myself: pushing the “push to cross” button over and over and over. This guy was convinced that if he constantly pushed the button, that for some reason the light would turn green faster, as if the button will respond “This guy has pushed the button 17 times in 10 seconds, he must need to get somewhere, I’ll make the light turn green sooner.” There is no doubt he was wearing down the metal on that button. Of course I laughed even louder when he anticipated the flashing walk signal, stepped off the curb, only to realize there was a left turn signal for cars, got honked at, and scurried back to his wife who was waiting on the curb.

A few minutes after that I was driving near the Langley airport and was about 15 seconds late to witnessing a fender bender. Someone rushing through a red light, while the person making a left hand turn thought they were going to stop. So as people are getting out of their cars, checking on the occupants, making sure everyone is okay, some woman jumps out of her car and starts directing traffic. She is telling me where I have to go and when I can go. It’s like she is living out this dream as traffic director; she has the whole intersection at her mercy, because people are actually following her directions. I can’t believe this. Why are we listening to her? I nudged slowly forward as she has her alleged stop signal up, and she motions three times at me, stepping closer each time. Her hand is screaming “STOP, STOP, STOP.” I can’t resist. I roll a few more feet. Now she gives me the double hand stop signal. Let me be clear: there is no reason for me to be stopped. I’m not even near the accident scene. There is no emergency vehicle. Finally I roll through the intersection that she has no hijacked. Well, needless to say, I went from a gentle one handed to double handed stop sign to a one fingered farewell sign as I drove away.

As I sipped on my now-cold Tim Horton’s, deep inside I know that I work the pedestrian cross button till it turns green, thinking that somehow I have eeked out a few extra seconds; that somehow I have controlled that cross walk to work for me. Secretly, I desperately wish that I could direct traffic in some intersection, wishing to wave my hands feverishly, using my new found talent of whistling without my hands as cars and drivers succumbed to my new found status. How many times as a kid did I play "police traffic guy" in my driveway. There is no doubt a need in most of our lives to have and be in control of situations. Maybe in this day and in this week I can spend less time pushing buttons and controlling the traffic around me, and just enjoy the drives, walks, music and coffee. And of course, the nose pickers.