November 10, 2022
Traffic is never perfectly safe at the intersection where our apartment is situated. Crossing the street requires vigilance, and some audacity. On weekday mornings sleepy drivers blinded by the rising sun face aggression from those more alert and less patient. The honking is constant. We hear things calm down after rush hour twice a day. Then, late at night, an unnerving lawlessness sets in.
Out intersection is close to the highway, clogged with commuters by day and thrashed by drag racers at night. In between, a line of hipsters and tourists fill the sidewalk and bike lane waiting for a seat at the popular brunch spot next door.
In the cold months, low golden sun screams in our living room windows in the morning, the electric stress of morning traffic surging through the intersection below. Drivers blare their horns at one another in hopeless fury, aware of nothing but the imbecile ahead making them eight seconds late. Residents endure, pushing their strollers, pulling their dogs, drinking their coffee and carrying on.
Noise is weaponized here, fraying even the most hardened city dweller. Any driver who lies on their horn more than two seconds deserves a cup of hot coffee through their window, but it hardly ever happens.
The aggression escalates, always. There is no aspect of life, none of the five senses, no human process or ritual immune to violence now.