Traffic cop. The buildings wore

November 05, 2003

Traffic cop. The buildings wore this weather as a wet dark cloak. One of those nights where nobody looks up. What would be the point of that? The blackish blue was reflected in the bubbling mirrored film laid out on the pavement. You could see a fun house version of yourself walking forward upside-down in it. The sound of each footstep and rolled around the inside of the umbrella half dome with the rumbling tracers of cars, trucks and transit . The lost leaves had broken down and banded together in brackish clumps to try to hold back building torrents as they rolled toward storm drains.
The cabbie was early and impatient so the drive seemed unfocused and borderline dangerous. The wipers were set too slow and this annoyed me. This should be a skill that one masters after so many hours at the wheel. Do you tell a cabbie that his wipers should be set faster? Do you tell him he brakes too late? You can give directions or ask them to slow down or speed up but how far do you take the finer points? I saw the lime green dayglo jacket of the traffic cop from way back. he didn’t. The lights were out in the intersection and the cop had to blow his whistle extra hard and wave his arms frantically to get the driver to stop before he was either struck down, had shit his pants or was run over with a full pant load. After the cabbie stopped the cop shook his head from side to side in that, “I can’t believe how stupid you are” way and the driver muttered, “how was I supposed to see him”. I saw him. I was in the back of the car without my hands on the wheel.
As we passed the traffic cop I mused on jobs lost to mechanization. Some of them seemed menial and dehumanizing on the surface but all had dimensions that could only be revealed through the actual work. I could imagine the decision making process in controlling and predicting the traffic flow. Did you wait until one stream had waned before you shut it off to release pressure on the one that had built up? Who controlled who? Did you learn the patterns and times and increase or decrease your pace to compensate? Could you instinctively spot a reckless driver and predict what other people saw as unpredictable? Did you develop a kinesic vocabulary in giving directions and modify it to include irony, anger, and humor? Could you feel a bump in the flow when a plane arrived at the airport so many miles away or when theatres let out from the early show? Were the decisions of a human somehow more flexible than those of a flashing coloured light?
On a good day it must feel like conducting a philharmonic of speeding metal in the tons. Such power. It is now rare to see anyone directing traffic. I watched citizens take over these duties during the east coast blackout and I felt jealous. I wanted a turn. What better way to the heart of a city.