Thank you Unsplash for the photo by Nagara Oyodo
Travelling on sidewalks, regardless of where I have been in the world, one does not have to go far before seeing artwork, messages or legacies eternally embedded in the cement. I have often wondered about these artists who turn our humdrum paths into galleries of the curios. What compels them to leave their imprints or marks on freshly paved concrete?
Perhaps it is for legacy reasons….to show the world that they had once walked on this Earth?
If “Ellie Mae loves Howie” is etched in concrete, will their love last forever? Or at least during the lifespan of the concrete?
Does an untouched, newly poured sidewalk spark a mischievous streak in the rebellious, that nothing should be perfect?
Maybe it is the creative spirit of some individuals who envision a smooth section of concrete as a canvas, adorned with their pets’ pawprints. They see a touch of beauty that will make the world more vibrant, and no doubt everyone will admire it.
Or perhaps…none of the above.
Yesterday while in my car, I stopped at a traffic light. It was a hot, stuffy afternoon at a busy city intersection. Having travelled through this tedious junction many times, it was easy to notice a freshly paved section of the sidewalk. There was no construction equipment or workers in sight. The sidewalk was guarded by yellow tape, orange cones and reflective barriers surrounding the new sidewalk portion.
A pedestrian caught my attention. A young man, with his head bowed, ensnared by the enchantment of his mobile device. Oblivious to the world around him, he violated the unwritten rules of construction zones. He glanced up momentarily from his phone and squeezed his slim body sideways through the narrow gaps of the barricades.
He had entered the forbidden area.
I wondered what motivated this man to violate the marked boundaries. Did he have a disregard for the rules of construction barriers, or perhaps he lacked knowledge or understanding of those rules. I believe it was simply his digital distraction that held a greater snag on him than his own safety.
In a moment of carelessness, the man stepped onto the pristine surface. He appeared to be stunned, and he strained to keep his poise. His foot plunged to the bottom of the murk, engulfing his shoe well past his ankle. He had little choice but to step forward with the other foot to keep his momentum. It, too, sunk, and both feet became submerged in the concrete.
From where I was watching, his look of shock turned instantly to panic when he realized his predicament. Was it because he feared he might shortly become a permanent part of city property? Or was it the embarrassment of leaving his footprint at one of the cities’ busiest intersections, providing his onlookers with rare entertainment while they waited for the light to change? His upper limbs flailed as he struggled for balance to pull his now heavier feet out of the suction of the wet goo.
I held my breath. I could hardly watch. It was difficult to decide whether to feel embarrassed for him, scared or entertained.
With each subsequent step, he performed a comedic ballet on the goopy, unconventional stage. Was the man going to be able to keep his balance, or was gravity going to take him down? After four more ‘less than graceful’ steps in the concrete, he was back in the safety of the solid ground.
I exhaled.
Except, gravity was not finished. It triggered a stride backward, and the man was back out for an encore. Another small dance ensued with a dramatic finale. His descent, backside first, into the cement. There was no splash. His hand which held his cell phone instinctively reached behind him to cushion his fall and his phone disappeared into the wet cement. He sat for a moment, surely wondering how to salvage his dignity or how he could possibly make this situation look anything but what it was. His self-regard seemingly became less important than his phone. He flipped over to all fours, blindly feeling around at the bottom of the concrete. Finally, he rescued his phone from the muck and wiped the sludge from it.
He must have known that he had an audience, but he did not look up to confirm. There was no way to escape that theatre of humiliation. The best he could do was to get up and move on as quickly as possible.
As he walked away, a trail of concrete plops trailed behind him. Still reluctant to look around to see who had just witnessed his incident, he returned to his digital oblivion. There he could pretend like the past few minutes did not happen.
Undoubtedly, he was relieved when the traffic light turned green. His spectators continued through the intersection, having a few moments of entertainment on that sweltering summer afternoon.
I smile now whenever I see markings of any kind in concrete and sidewalks. It makes me think of human complexity and how sometimes, we do things just because we can. I do not know the reason that the man passed through the barriers, if it was the thrill of breaking the rules, the temptation to push boundaries or the cyber psychosis that inflicts so many of us. But as this tale is a reminder to those of us who tread on a forbidden path, it is almost certain that peril awaits. An impulsive moment of carelessness that takes us by surprise leaves behind a fun story that can be shared!
As I drove away, on that afternoon, I looked in my rear-view mirror at the young man. With the added weight of wet concrete on his shoes and clothes, his trudged walk reminded me of Mr. Snuffleupagus from Sesame Street.