The Left-Hand Bias
The United States, a huge place with huge buildings, huge cities, huge people… but very ordinary-sized sidewalks. In a country where economies of scale has led to creations of bewildering proportions, and sometimes unnecessary extravagance, one with a left-hand bias cannot help but feel niggled on the sidewalk.
Before I embarked upon my American odyssey I envisaged a fast society, where the loose morals of the individual are matched only by the conservative nature of politics. I could safely assume that my reliance on reason and logic would at some point in time bring me into conflict with right-orientated natives. What I did not foresee was where my battle with the ‘right’ would begin: on the footpath.
The sidewalk is many things: a place of business, or of entertainment; an area for recreation, or solicitation. This is only a surface view of the pavement, however, because its intricacies go unobserved every day. Next time you walk along a busy footpath, look around you. See how seamless its function is, how natural its ebb and flow. It is an organic and dynamic system that we take for granted every day, governed by its own set of rules, its own social contract. By stepping out our door we become unsuspecting participants in the great scheme of pedestrianism.
The truth of all this I only realised when I was forced to take a walk on the right side of life. The US Citizens’ right bias informs not only their political judgement, but the side of the footpath they walk on. It is most unnerving, and creates an inexplicable sense of uneasiness when the usually unconscious act of walking is somehow upset. While I walk I like to perform other actions simultaneously, such as eating, texting, or even thinking. To make this possible I, like any other person, regress to relying on cultural assumptions… like which side of the pavement to use. By entering in my desired coordinates I can take my hands off the controls and do other things. I auto-pilot; but in a world where everyone else’s auto-pilot is set to the right side of the sidewalk, turning your own is a dangerous luxury.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to turn down a chance to dance. I would rather keep it to the clubs, however, where the environment is made more amicable by booze and beats, rather than on the sidewalk, where the situation is awkward and frustrating. The amount of times I’ve just wanted to turn the corner, or cut inside someone, in a fashion that is perfectly predictable to someone with a left-hand bias, and ended up engaged in something akin to the Bird of Paradise’s mating dance is maddening.
There you go America, you have managed to displease me in the most banal manner. You have forced me to walk manually. Consciously considering the very act itself, but in doing so I have opened my eyes to the world around me. So I forgive you, because of what you have taught me, what you doth reveal!
What have I observed, what lessons have I learned? I have learned that the footpath is society’s great equaliser; it is a return to the state of nature. The Wall Street banker who has spent all day robbing the middle class will in turn be robed by a pauper with no health insurance but very flash Reeboks. The impoverished homeless will survive off the change given by those who will vote against tax increases facilitating social development. Its loose cobblestones will stub toes of any colour, and men of all religion shall curse aloud with the searing pain. The walking stick will surmount the step the mobility scooter succumbed to, and dignity will defeat the segway at every turn. How can anyone stay angry for long at such a cultural daisy cutter?
As much as the day-to-day battle of getting from A to B is complicated by the right-hand bias of my fellow pedestrians, I will never give it up. Indeed, the beauty is no one can give up it up even if they wanted to. People from all walks of life are at some point bound to walk the same walk, along the sidewalk.
The annoyance of bumping into or dancing with my fellow pedestrians is by far outweighed by the insight it has given me. I never realised the simple act of walking on cement, brick, or even asphalt pavement held so much meaning. For those who have to this moment taken the footpath for granted, no longer live in ignorance, I set you free. Next time you stand on the threshold, bow low to the ground and kiss, much like the Pope. Bless this sacred social artefact. The two-metre paved strip of social equality.
Author info
James Hurndell
James Hurndell is but a shepherd, tending his flock.
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3 Comments
18 Feb, 2010 at 10:07 am
That’s actually a great observation, I’d never really stopped to think about the sidewalk like that. It’ll make my next stroll a bit more interesting though.
Great job :-)
23 Feb, 2010 at 9:27 am
When I went to American I spent two weeks consciously determining to “walk on the right, walk on the right, walk on the right”. When I returned home I then had to sort of un-program myself. It was like once I’d switched to manual it was harder to switch back to auto-pilot. It’s an interesting phenomenon you never really think about until you have to change…
15 Mar, 2010 at 7:44 pm
Did you notice how Americans love the New Zealand accent? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were very much liked over there lol.
Oh and one more thing, the Samoans there are what you call true gangsters ;)
I miss home.
-The State of Utah.
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