Advanced and Disadvantageous

Yesterday, I mentioned to someone from St. Louis that I write a blog about being an “alien” here. She asked if I wrote every day, which made me realize that I hadn’t written in a very long time. I’d love to write every day, but I can’t seem to find the time lately and, quite frankly, I’m acclimatising, so I don’t feel quite so foreign anymore. In other words, I feel less alien.

Every once in awhile though, I’m reminded that I’m not from here and never will be! In fact, it was a policeman who brought this salient fact to my attention. You see, he pulled me over because I got stuck in an intersection. Picture this: he was facing me in the left turn lane but he criss-crossed two neighbouring lanes to catch me after I finally made it out of there alive.

You just have to imagine this – especially if you’re from Europe where the beloved roundabouts eliminate the need for traffic lights and, especially, advanced greens, which allow left turners to make their turns before other traffic moves. (By the way, does it bug anyone else when the “advanced” green comes after all vehicular traffic has moved through the intersection? I mean, that’s not advanced; it’s retarded. No, no, I’m not being mean and I hate that label anyway. I mean it in the TRUE sense of the word before it was misused, meaning “later”.)

In every city in which I’ve driven – and there have been PLENTY in the past 30 years (oh geez, has it really been 30 years since my sister and I got our licences on our 16th birthday?) – left turners advance into the intersection on a green light to await their chance to turn, unless otherwise signed that they are to wait for an advanced green arrow or signal. Well, welcome to St. Louis! Here, you wait behind the white intersection line, even though all lights, including your special one, is green and the sign simply says, “Yield to oncoming traffic on green”.

On the fateful day when I was lucky enough to fully understand the unique driving rules of this city, while facing an officer of the law, I pulled into the intersection on the green and waited. When my light turned yellow, I advanced a little more, preparing to make my left turn and clear out of the intersection (you know, the way other people all over the world do it ...) when I noticed that the oncoming traffic was not slowing down. They just kept barrelling through the intersection. I threw up my hands in exasperation and whined, “They’re running the red light!” to no-one in particular, although my kids were in the back seat trusting me foolishly with their lives.

Finally, the oncoming traffic slowed, but then the opposite direction got the green and those drivers advanced quickly, like lions on the last hyena at the water hole, honking and making a show of slamming on their brakes and making “You are insane” motions with their hands. (Oh ya, as if you didn’t notice me stranded there before!?) Well, I scooted out of there fast, but pulled over to the side of the road for the inevitable ticket from the officer, whose face I could plainly see across the intersection. He was licking his lips, calculating the size of the ticket he would give me. Do they get commissions on those tickets?

He leapt out of his car, censure on his lips, mockery in his eyes. “That was a really stupid thing to do, you know”, is how he greeted me. Yes sir. He looked into the back seat where my little angels tried for that mix of: I’m afraid of you – Yes, she is a bad driver – She’s our mother so she can do no wrong. “You could have gotten yourself killed, you know” is how he followed up. Yes sir. As I reached for my licence and insurance papers, he stopped me and told me benevolently that I should stop and buy an ice cream for my kids, ‘cause I’d just saved myself $130. And, off he went. Yes sir.

When I’m wrong, I’m wrong and I’ll admit it (although not always fully and completely if I’m in the heat of an argument with my hubby – ha ha!). But, I didn’t think I was wrong. You see, as a foreigner, I had to qualify for a Missouri licence recently. That’s right; the multiple choice test with several pimply 16 year-olds and the driving test, where someone sits beside you and marks everything you do. I think I lost a lot of marks right off the bat for trying to chat to the examiner, who was nearly half my age. Anyway, I studied the manual. I passed with flying colours, might I add! When I got home from my left turn incident, I consulted my much-studied copy of the Department of Transportation’s driving manual. Guess what? Nothing.

Still, lesson learned. This little alien will dutifully stop her UFO well behind the line until there’s room to go!