Crossing Guard

Many people ask me, hey crossing guard, isn’t your job sort of pointless now that there are traffic lights? So I ask them if they think smart bombs should replace soldiers, or telephones should replace town criers, or stethoscopes should replace lawyers. And yeah, maybe I’m not as important as I used to be, but by the time the people I’m talking to have realized this, they’re already in a traffic accident.

But there is a lot I do that a traffic light just can’t. Every day, I see Timmy walk to school with his eyes on the ground, going in between cars, under trucks, barely missing low-flying airplanes. Incidentally, I haven’t seen too much of Timmy lately. I guess he goes on the alternative route, where the crossing guard lets kids cross against the light. One day, someone is going to report him, and then everyone will love that someone and go on her traffic route instead.

And then there’s Betty, the colorblind kid, who always crosses at the wrong time. At first I thought she just liked opposite day, but then I asked her if she liked opposite day, and she said yes. But the opposite of yes is no, so she doesn’t. Point is, she can’t cross the street by herself.

Another job I do is stand in the middle of traffic and wave my arms to let people know when they can drive. A traffic light could do this, yes, but people are much more careful about stopping when they’re afraid of running me over. I thought wearing scary outfits would make them even more afraid, so one night I dressed up as a robber. I even painted my face black, to make it extra scary, but that was a bad idea.

Standing there is slightly worrisome, but now I make sure to wear bright clothing, a helmet and a protective layer of foam around my body. It might not prevent internal bleeding or death, but it does keep me soft to the touch and warm. Which is good, because when you get hit by cars, you lose a lot of body heat.

JLF '10