Look Both Ways Before Crossing the Street

Recent interaction with Dr. Duke has made me more paranoid than usual. I suppose this is par for the course when one is dealing with a man who has for years been a target of local law enforcement agencies. The Doctor is filling my head with crazy schemes and wild ideas about “reforming” public education, a subject he knows little about – not that his lack of knowledge will change his mind about running for school board. The Doctor keeps telling me that he is a quick study with a steel-trap memory for theories, dates, and names. To prove it he rattled off the names of every SBSD Superintendent dating back to 1886.

While the Doctor immerses himself in the minutia of public education, I’ve been reflecting on the steep decline in civility and competence on Santa Barbara’s roads and streets. Just yesterday, while crossing Anacapa at De La Guerra, right across the street from City Hall, I was nearly flattened by a young blonde woman in a gigantic Nissan Armada, executing an erratic right turn while yakking on her cell phone, oblivious to my presence two feet from her front bumper, oblivious to the world outside the Armada’s windows, oblivious to everything except the overriding importance of her phone call. What was the call about, life, death, a pile of money? Or was she demanding a refund from Spa Medicus for a pedicure gone bad?

We will never know because after I leapt out of the way she gunned the Armada down Anacapa Street, damn near side-swiping a UPS truck.

It seems to me that one can draw a direct correlation between the steep rise in real estate prices in Fat City (Santa Barbara) and the steep decline in the competence and courtesy of drivers. As the price of dirt around here rises and hefty equity windfalls roll in, the well-heeled feel entitled to break the rules of the road any time and any where they desire; thus it isn’t unusual to see some joker in a luxury car whip a U-turn on Santa Barbara Street, between De La Guerra and Canon Perdido, and drive half a block against traffic. In Fat City today, pedestrians stroll at their own risk, and even sidewalks provide no safe haven. Jittery LA-types in gargantuan SUV’s could care less about jumping the curb and mowing down a pack of school kids or an elderly person with an aluminum walker. That’s collateral damage, nothing to lose any sleep over. A decent attorney and the Ambien defense will take care of any legal issues that might arise. What matters is not only that LA-types roll unimpeded to where they need to go but also locate a perfect parking space when they arrive. Nine times out of ten that “perfect” space is a handicap spot or fire zone, but here again, the well-heeled feel a strong sense of entitlement to those very convenient spaces, directly in front of Starbucks or Lucky Brand Jeans.

Another thing I notice is that few motorists in Fat City bother with turn signals. Apparently, the new wealthy don’t feel it necessary to inform other motorists of their intent to turn; the rest of us should simply know, and stay out of the way.

Amen. As Tom Petty said, “It’s good to be King (or Queen).”