And I'm going to interrupt my latest sewing project to tell it to you.
Actually I've had this dream for quite some time but it was brought home to me again tonight, and since I'm feeling generous I'm going to share it.
Here in my Big City and I'm sure it's the same in other cities throughout the USA, our highways are congested and we have to fight our way through a lot of traffic on a daily basis. So I think it's important for all concerned to keep things moving along in a smooth and efficient manner.
And I don't just mean drivers, I'm talking about pedestrians too.
I managed to get stuck in rush hour traffic tonight which means that a fifteen minute commute turned into an hour long torture. So, there I was, first in line at the intersection's red light, and by God I intended to hold up my end of the bargain by zipping right on through as soon as it turned green.
I just wasn't counting on a Saunterer.
Yes, folks, a dreaded Saunterer.
You see, here in my Big City we have a group of people who feel that traffic lights are for everyone else, but certainly not for them.
This means that they can walk wherever they want, anytime they want, usually at the speed of zero, and almost always in front of my car when I'm at a green light.
The saunterer loves to step off the curb at just the right moment and with an insolent sneer, swaggers past and just dares me to do anything about it.
By the time the saunterer's fat ass is out of my way I hope the opposing traffic (who's pawing at the ground and raring to go!) doesn't clip me as I race through an "I thought it was yellow, officer!" light.
Is it any wonder there's a shortage of bourbon in the apartment?
This brings me to my dream.
I win the lottery.
I hit the streets in search of Saunterers, and in true Millionaire fashion I find them and bestow upon them, airline tickets to Europe. Hell, I may even spring for First Class.
It doesn't matter what country; France, England, Germany... the important thing is I get them there.
I arrange for a taxi to get them into the heart of the city where they are then let loose.
The only stipulation is that I have to be there to witness the following: A Saunterer attempting to jay walk.
Because it's only going to happen once.
Just seeing the insolent smirk on the Saunterer's face disappear, only to be followed by incredulous jaw dropping right before their final departure to the great Jay Walking Land in the Sky, would be priceless.
I never said it was a nice dream!
Actually one of the scariest taxi rides I've ever experienced was in Dublin. Our driver, who told us he was from Jamaica (and I wonder if someone didn't play fair with him and tell him "Sure, Dublin's just like Jamaica, warm and sunny!"), had an angry lead foot and didn't know where the brake pedal was. I watched sure footed and very agile pedestrians scatter like pigeons in our wake and I had to close my eyes for the remainder of the journey as we barrelled our way through the city.
And these particular pedestrians had the right of way!
When Baby Girl went over to Europe this summer, in addition to warning her about keeping her passport with her at all times, Yes, in the shower too, dammit!, I stressed that she was never, ever to jay walk.
And if I win the lottery, I'll be able to send a lot of Saunterers abroad because I'm only going to buy them one way tickets.
I don't think they'll be coming back!
No I don't have PMS!