Suburban exodus
What would you call the place that is under a city? Infernal? A sewer? If you were punting about in Latin, you could say it was sub urbe. And if you were an urban pedestrian, it might feel akin to plunging down into a giant abyss.
I went out to the suburbs this evening, riding a commuter train with the intention of walking the remainder of the way to my destination. It was a familiar area, one I had strolled around many times before. The only difference tonight was that I would need to travel a bit farther from the station than usual. With clear night skies and warm temperatures, everything seemed fine. Just an extra fifteen minutes of walking would put me right where I needed to be.
The idling Hummer I walked past on the street should have been a hint that I had entered a nether-nether land. But no, I kept walking, cheerful and oblivious. Past the cozy pharmacy, past the upstanding local bank, past the patrician hospital, I trotted along the sidewalk at a brisk pace.
When I crossed an overpass, the sidewalk disappeared from my side of the street. I waited for cars to pass, and dashed to the other side of the road. Street lights became increasingly sporadic. Then the sidewalk disappeared from both sides of the street. I walked inside the wooden enclosure for a large apartment complex and continued to make my way beside the street, my footsteps growing slow and wobbly in the unlit, mucky lawn.
I emerged from the far side of the complex intact, only to find that I needed to cross another short overpass with about one foot of shoulder on either side and no overhead lighting. Oh, and did I mention that I was wearing a black jacket?
The no-shoulder, virtually unlit, sloping gradient business went on for another half mile, with me trudging under constant fear of about being hit by an unsuspecting driver. I finally arrived at my destination, much later than planned, mud-splattered and frayed around the edges.
So why would I go to all this trouble? Um, to attend the opening session of a stress management course. For real.
