Romantic San Francisco!
You've got to lay off those doughnuts with sprinkles
Just as I was approaching the curb at a pedestrian crosswalk - a fat motorcycle cop roared around the corner - all chrome and jowly cheeks.
Although it was obvious that I had the right-of-away - the jerk-off had the audacity to squeeze through a space of about 3 feet between me and the sidewalk (and nearly nicked me in the process) as he sped off on his merry way (to the doughnut shop, no doubt)
Maybe I should have made a Citizen's arrest for reckless driving!
All that nasty cholesterol flowing through his veins must have clogged up the old grey matter and clouded his judgment.
Unless he was under a rock when God was handing out brains!
An isolated instance of pig mentality?
No, sir!
The next evening in North Beach, I was just a few steps short of reaching the curb, when one of the city's finest (hauling a** in a squad car by his lonesome) squealed around Kearney headed right in my direction in a devil-may-care fashion.
I did a double-take at the light, to verify I was within my rights to cross, then glanced back towards the speeding vehicle.
The uniformed copper reluctantly slowed, at which point, I continued on my journey the last few steps to the sidewalk.
At this juncture, once I stepped up on the curb, he proceeded to whiz by - and when he did so - just about jabbed me in the butt with his sideview mirror.
In a town where tourists are inclined to stroll around the quaint little neighborhoods in the Bay area, this kind of wild cowboy behaviour is not acceptable Mayor!
Bastards!
Green means right of way, bozzo!
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