My backpack loaded with fresh fruit and vegetables, I exited Tel Aviv’s open-air Carmel Market & hopped on my bicycle.
Twenty-five minutes to get home, unload purchases, drink something cold and get to my son’s school in time for pick-up
I zipped through traffic, weaving from sidewalk to street and back again in an effort to beat the clock.
I saw the light turn red but decided to go for it anyway. I know. Tsk tsk tsk. Bad cyclist.
I zipped into the crosswalk and in my peripheral vision sighted the portly, middle-aged male in bermuda shorts, tube socks and running shoes as he stepped off the curb.
I didn’t brake. Bad bad cyclist.
The pedestrian hastily retreated to the sidewalk and in a thick Scottish accent protested loudly to his companion:
“But the light is Green!”
And because I was zipping, I didn’t call out an apology. I was already gone.
But internally I chuckled.
Yes it’s green. But this is Israel! Must be a Tourist.
Technically I guess it could’ve been Manhattan or London or San Fran or Cairo. It’s sort of an urban thing but it doesn’t make it okay.
I know. Irresponsible and selfish.
Bad bad bad cyclist.