Walking in Key Biscayne has morphed from a tranquil carefree stroll, to a place requiring skills of management and dexterity, both thrilling and dangerous. I refer to my walk from Key Colony to the Winn Dixie. I try to think of it as exercise, or a necessary journey to provision our larder. Not, of course, like climbing Mt Everest, more like an upscale obstacle course designed by Salvador Dali on one of his bad days.
As for all things Key Biscayne, proper attire is, if not required, expected. As to protective equipment; a bike helmet is not a bad idea for someone who is not fleet of foot. Well-fitting sneakers, emblazoned with the proper logo, are a must as well, as is bright attire, so that you can be easily seen. It doesn’t always work, but you’ll look nice. For the elderly, one of those devices that call an ambulance might come in handy as well. Strolling at night should not be considered without night vision glasses.
Thus equipped, I leave the sanctity of Key Colony, onto the treacherous Crandon Boulevard’s lovely landscaped sidewalk. I am greeted by the pounding noise and quantity of the traffic, which resembles the Indianapolis Speedway, or maybe I 95.
Our first encounter, walking toward us, is a large bulgy guy in very tight workout gear and yellow Nikes. He is alone, but he appears to be talking to someone, gesturing, arms flaying the air, emphasizing whatever. I have seen this before in the dementia wards. I find that this type is harmless; just stay out of his way. If he runs into a telephone pole, that’s his problem.
The next hazard are women in various dresses, but for the most part in exercise attire. It’s the Key; think LuluLemon. They are walking, holding cell phones in front of them, totally engaged in conversation with another woman who is on their screen. They take up the entire sidewalk. I am forced into the wet grass, soaking my Costco designer sneakers.
“So, what did you say to him?” I overhear one say as they pass.
“You’re kidding me, come on, really?” I hear as they move out of range.
I’m tempted to turn around and follow. I’d like to know what she said to him.
But these folks can be dangerous, especially if one of them is pushing a baby carriage. Remember, baby carriages always have the right of way, no matter what. If she runs into you, causing multiple lacerations, and grief, she can sue you. Beware.
I walk on, clinging to the left, abiding the age-old rule: WALK ON RIGHT, PASS ON LEFT.
A bike flashes by – on the right. Of course, it does. One misstep to the right and I’m dead.
I walk on. Two kids balanced on a motorized scooter zoom past me at about 15 miles an hour. I know they are going this fast, because I talked to a kid who owned one.
“Nice scooter,” I said admiringly.
“Thanks.”
“How fast can it go?”
“Twenty miles an hour,” he answered proudly.
“Does it have a horn?”
“A horn? No.”
“Hit anybody yet?”
“Not yet,” he said, smiling at my joke.
I walk on, and finally come to the last and worst obstacle of all: The crossing of The Boulevard Crandon. I push the button on the pole to start the contest. I feel like I’m on one of those reality shows. The red lights begin flashing, but the cars are still flying by. I’ve been down this road before (pun intended). I step off the curb with one arm extended indicating, “Stop Idiot!” The car stops, and the other cars fall in line. I make it to the center median strip and stop. The middle lane car has stopped, but I know I am still not safe. I walk past the stopped car, and I pause. Sure enough, another unconscious driver rolls through in front of me. I scream an obscenity at him, and thankfully reach the other side.
I look up at the Winn Dixie sign, at all the people.
I am alive and well, and it’s a beautiful day in Key Biscayne.
Stay safe. Gil
Gil Herman is a student in Kathie Klarrich’s writing class at the KB Community Center.. For more information and class schedule, click here.
