Tag: safety

Crazy Bicyclists

The first thing most people think of when you mention Seattle is rain. Because of that, I was really taken by surprise at the number of people who ride bicycles in this town. Thousands of bikes cross my drawbridge every single day, rain or shine, cold weather or mild. You have to admire their determination, but you also have to peek out the door before stepping on the sidewalk to avoid being taken out by one of them. And there are bike lanes on every major road.

From an environmental standpoint I love this about Seattle. And frankly, given the sheer density of vehicles on the roads here, the more cars that are left in garages, the better off we are. All that extra exercise makes for a healthier population, too, and we can all benefit from that.

Having said that, there are a few issues that appear to be a general source of irritation with regard to the bicycle culture in this town. First of all, bikes are expected to adhere to the same rules of the road that cars do, and yet many of them simply don’t bother. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen bikes go right through red lights and make no apologies. This astounds me, because if a bike and a car meet, it’s the bicyclist who will suffer, so you’d think they’d be more cautious as a consequence, not less.

And another complaint I hear quite a bit is that if there is a vehicle/bike accident, more often than not it’s the driver who gets the ticket, even if it was the biker who was breaking the rules. This means you have to drive even more defensively than you do in other cities.

Then there are the militant bicyclists. Those are the ones who block intersections on Ride Your Bike to Work Days, which causes traffic to back up for miles. I’m sorry, but many of us couldn’t ride our bikes to work even if we wanted to, because we have a 30 mile commute, or have to drop 3 kids off at daycare, or can’t do so for health reasons. Why should we be punished?

Cooperation is a two way street, and we all have to share that street. Until all parties involved bear equal levels of responsibility, the roads will not be safe for anyone. Can’t we all just get along?

bike

[Image credit: seattle-cycling-tours.com]

Tractor Mentality

When I was 12 years old I was growing up in a semi-rural, semi-farming community, and one of the classes they insisted we take in school was agriculture. I vaguely remember having to identify various breeds of cow, and planting trees as a community project. It was the 70’s. Times were simpler. And Florida schools were, if anything, even worse than they are now. That’s really saying something.

Times were also a lot more dangerous. You could still buy lawn darts. Kids were a lot more free-ranging. They still went outside to play, and no one had heard of a bike helmet.

Apparently people were a lot less litigious as well, because child safety, both in and out of school, seemed to be a mere afterthought. It’s amazing that any of us survived to adulthood. I, for one, am surprised that I survived agriculture class.

One afternoon, beneath the blazing Florida sun, our teacher led us down to the football field, and there, right on the 50 yard line, stood a full sized, honest-to-God tractor. In front of the tractor was a maze of traffic cones. “Pop quiz, kids! We’re going to drive this tractor through those cones, and your grade for this endeavor will go down slightly for every cone you knock over. Who wants to go first?”

Well, these farm kids didn’t even bat an eyelash. They’d probably been driving tractors since they were 8 years old. But I had never been behind the wheel of anything, let alone a tractor with a bucket on the front and a manual transmission. I was just supposed to know what I was doing. I freaked out.

I was the last to go. Everyone else had done fine. I felt sick. I shyly whispered to the teacher, “But… I don’t know how to d–” “Nonsense! Hop on up there! You’ll do fine!”

So there I was on this huge machine that had tires taller than I was, and its engine was roaring. I lurched across the field, knocking over every cone in sight. I could barely hear my teacher shouting for me to stop, but he hadn’t told me how to stop. He had barely explained how to go. He wound up running beside me, and as he leaped up onto the tractor he was shouting at me.

Seriously. HE was shouting at ME. I was just a kid, so I felt stupid and humiliated, but from an adult perspective, he shouldn’t have put me in that situation. I’d have been justified in knocking his block off. I wish I had. A scene like that wouldn’t happen in a junior high school in 2015. Too much potential for lawsuits and Facebook publicity.

Every once in a while I have a nightmare where I’m rolling down a hill on a tractor and the brakes don’t work. It’s funny the way school can scar a person for life. Luckily all my scars are “only” emotional.

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The Psychic Parent

Every good parent has a sort of psychic ability. You know, the eyes in the back of your head thing. If your child isn’t where he or she is supposed to be, or is doing something wrong, you sense it. Somehow you’re just tuned in to your child’s frequency.

Notice I said “good” parent, though. Just because you have a child does not mean you automatically acquire this skill. Some people never get it, and others seem to be able to turn it on and off at will. Those are the ones who accidentally leave an infant in a car at high noon in July. Or the ones who let their 4 year old wander off at the mall. Or the mother who is so focused on the boyfriend that her kid drowns in the tub.

Of course, the situation is not always that extreme. Often what happens is the child grows ups feeling overlooked, uncared for, or vaguely unsafe. But this, too, can have a profound lifelong psychological impact.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with never acquiring the psychic parent skill, if you choose not to become a parent. Not everyone should be one. Just because you’re physically capable of reproducing does not necessarily mean that you should. I have nothing but respect for people who know themselves well enough to make thoughtful life choices.

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[Image credit: sodahead.com]

Cop-ophobia

Growing up, I was taught that policemen were your friends. If you got lost, find the nearest police officer. He would help you. As law-abiding as I always have been, I assumed that all cops were Officer Friendly, and I maintained that view until I was 18 years old.

So imagine my shock as an exchange student in Mexico, when a policeman appeared on the street and every man, woman and child disappeared. Where was everybody going? I quickly figured it out when I realized the man was clearly intoxicated, and was carrying a semi-automatic weapon. And then another officer shot and killed a boy inside a crowded local disco that I had just left an hour earlier. I learned, like the rest of the citizenry, that it was best to avoid interactions with the local constabulary whenever possible. This was a new feeling and I didn’t like it.

I was relieved to come home to America where law enforcement, I thought, was much saner. Then an off duty cop frisked me way, way, way too intimately as I was going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. And a few years later, when stopped for speeding (guilty as charged) the officer stuck his crotch in my open window, inches from my face, as he supposedly wrote my ticket on the roof of my car.

And then over the years I have seen evidence of both arrogance and contempt from police officers, and it seems that you can’t read the news today without coming across a story about police brutality. The folks that are there for our safety don’t seem to be particularly safe themselves, and that’s terrifying. So forgive me if you really are Officer Friendly, but if you pull me over, I’m going to keep my hands on the top of the steering wheel where you can see them, and not move a muscle until you instruct me to, all the while thinking, “Please don’t hurt me”. Because I don’t trust you. Can you honestly blame me?

Officer Friendly

[Image credit: pinterest.com]

Potentially Hazardous

If I were a package, the post office would refuse to mail me. I should be encased head to toe in bubble wrap and surrounded by bright yellow caution tape. Seriously. I’m a danger to myself.

As if it weren’t bad enough that I have a brace on my arm due to a recent bad fall, last night I fell yet again! I was going down another set of stairs and trying not to grip the railing with my “bad” hand, all the while fumbling with my umbrella, when I took a tumble on a bed of gravel and landed in a very large, muddy puddle. No harm done this time, other than a scraped knee. But as I lay there, “empuddled”, on a dark deserted street in a very bad neighborhood, my half-opened umbrella threatening to abandon me with the next gust of wind, I thought, “I’m a human train wreck.”

I seem to go through phases of clumsiness. I’ll have several bad falls spaced closely together. Or there’s the time I spilled boiling soup down my chest and legs within days of setting my hair on fire. And then I drove a splinter not only under my fingernail, but also all the way up to my first joint. Children should run screaming in the opposite direction when I approach.

Granted, so far I seem to only put myself at risk, but who knows what the future holds? Someday my containment field might be breached, and then woe betide you. It might not be pretty.

caution

[Image credit: safetygearonline.com]

Sleepy in Seattle

In Florida, my whole life revolved around the desperate pursuit of sleep, and I was lucky if I got 5 hours of it a day. I was in a perpetual mental fog, and it was affecting my health, both mental and physical. Granted, this probably was caused by my 13 years of working on the graveyard shift, coupled with my stress and anxiety about my financial situation and a general ennui, as it were, about my very existence.

Now that I’m on the opposite side of the country, I seem to have the opposite problem. Here in Seattle it’s like I’ve been sneezed on by Rip Van Winkle. If I didn’t have pesky responsibilities like dogs that require feeding and a job that for some reason insists on my attendance in exchange for a paycheck, I think I could easily sleep for 15 hours a day. If I hadn’t started typing this blog entry I could succumb to the Sandman right now. Mind you, it’s only 7 pm.

It’s not that I feel constantly exhausted here. Far from it. If I have something I want or need to do, once I shake off the heavy sodden blanket of slumber I can feel quite refreshed and infinitely perky. And yet place me in a horizontal position and I’m back in the Land of Nod almost instantly. I honestly don’t know what’s come over me. I do have a few theories, though.

  • At this point on the calendar, at this latitude, the sun sets around 5 pm and doesn’t rise again until around 7am. And when I say it sets, I mean, by God, it sets. It’s pitch black before you can glance, all mystified, at the clock. I generally assume it’s much later than it turns out to be. This level of confusion can be draining.
  • I’ve always loved to sleep in the rain, and find the sound of it comforting and hypnotic. Er… did I mention I’m in Seattle? ‘Nuff said.
  • I’m at a higher altitude. Science buffs, help me out here. How much thinner is the air? How much impact would that have on me?
  • Maybe it’s something in the water. It sure tastes better here.
  • It’s much cooler here, so when I am awake, I’m a lot more active. No, I’m not training for marathons. I’m still me, after all. But I’d like to think I’m earning some of this sleep.
  • I’ve noticed that my hair and finger nails are growing at a much faster rate here. I have no idea why that would be, but that must require energy, right? You try and grow hair. Not so easy, is it?
  • I feel a lot safer here than I did in Florida. Which is strange, because the crime rate seems to be through the roof. Maybe it’s because the general environment, both political and spiritual, is much more compatible with my lifelong philosophies.
  • I don’t really know anyone and I can’t afford to do much until I get out from under this crippling relocation debt, so I may as well sleep.
  • In spite of that debt, for the first time in many years, I can see a light at the end of the financial tunnel. It’s far, far away, but it’s there. So I’m much more content, much more relaxed.
  • I’m trying to keep my thermostat relatively low, so it’s hard to get out of my nice warm bed with my snuggly dogs and put my feet on these cold hardwood floors.
  • And finally, finally, I think I’m actually happy. That’s new, so I’ll have to research it and get back to you. But somehow it’s easier to relinquish consciousness when you go down smiling.

I could probably write a lot more, but I feel a nap coming on.

sleep

[Image credit: integratinghealth.net]

Shield Man

Not far from one of the bridges where I work is an abandoned building covered with graffiti. A homeless guy is squatting in one of the sheds on the property. He likes to carry a bright pink shield that he seems to have fashioned out of scrap wood, duct tape and a plastic bag. He isn’t doing anyone any harm. He’s a lot safer there than he would be squatting under some overpass like the majority of the mentally ill in Seattle seem to do.

But the other day I saw four teenage boys descend on the place. They were probably only looking for someplace out of the rain to smoke weed. They went into the dark building and disappeared. This rousted shield man from his shed, and he started patrolling the perimeter of the property, brandishing his pink shield. He paced back and forth, back and forth, for about 15 minutes. I was actually kind of scared for him, because these four young men could have easily taken him out if they wanted to, in spite of his protection, or perhaps because of it.

Finally the boys left the building and watched shield man pace for a minute or two. They were obviously thinking. I contemplated calling the police before someone got hurt, but they would have kicked shield man out of his shed, too, and he’d be a lot worse off. So I simply watched nervously. First sign of trouble I was going to get on the phone.

Finally the boys left, and shield man went to where they had been standing and indignantly tamped out their reefer butts. Clearly he has some form of pride of place. He then went back into his shed. Crisis averted.

I can’t even imagine what this man’s life is like. He’s all alone in his damp metal shed with only his shield to keep him company. But he’s doing the best he can. Aren’t we all? Or are we? We should be able to do better for men like him.

graffiti

[Image credit: thedirtfloor.com]

Sleazy Little Punk

At a time when I can ill afford it, I’m going to have to go buy a locked mailbox. The other day I opened mine to find a bunch of bills I had left for the postman had been ripped open, wadded up, and thrown back in the box. Nice.

And then I started calling around and discovered several things that I have mailed never reached their destination. And that mangled envelope that was supposed to contain my new library card, which I had blamed on the post office, was probably the fault of this little scumbag, too.

I say little scumbag because this is almost certainly the work of a neighborhood kid. Most adults realize that they’re not going to be able to cash checks made out to someone else, or use credit cards that haven’t been authenticated. The Hope Diamond isn’t going to be shipped through the US Postal Service. But I sure would have liked to have gotten those fun Washington State travel books I ordered on Amazon.com. I suspect he won’t be reading them.

What really ticks me off is some little jerk who can’t even shave yet is now causing me to change my life. I’ll have to drop all mail at the post office now, and buy that locked mailbox. And the sad part about it is he’ll never get caught, even though it’s a federal offense and I did file a report. I can’t afford to buy a video camera on top of everything else.

The worst part about it is that he’ll grow up and move on to cars and houses and God only knows what else, and he lives in my neighborhood, which suddenly doesn’t feel as safe as it did a few days ago. It doesn’t have to be this way. If I knew who it was, after I beat the ever-living shit out of him, I’d say, “You know, you have entrepreneurial instincts. You could really be a success in life if you turned from the dark side.”

You stupid little punk.

Punk

Hello Sailor

Most boat captains are responsible and want to take good care of their very expensive investments. They take the time to learn the rules of the waterways. They don’t hinder commercial vessels’ ability to maneuver by drifting slowly into their path. They don’t tie up the radio waves with useless banter. They take safety very seriously, and respect the property of others. They don’t go through a drawbridge and then turn around and go right back, thus backing up traffic for miles, simply because they can. That’s the type of sailor I would be.

Unfortunately there is another kind out there. This kind has hundreds of thousands of dollars lying around and can’t think of anything better to do with it than buy a money-pit of a sailboat that they can only use a few days a year. That probably tells you a lot about their priorities right there.

This type of sailor buys himself a cute hat, makes sure his wet bar is well stocked, and invites all his friends for a ride, not warning them that he doesn’t even know how to leave the boat slip. Half the time he hasn’t bothered investing in a radio, so he’s impossible to communicate with when you’re trying to warn him he’s being an idiot. And he uses a street map instead of a chart and wonders why he goes aground. He does not respect no wake zones and cheerfully does thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to other vessels thereby.

For some reason, people who would never drink and drive will not think twice about drinking and boating. And very responsible automobile drivers though some people may be, they don’t bother to even learn which side of the buoy to navigate when they take to the water. It’s enough to make you scream.

People die on waterways just as they do on highways. Just because you’re out there to have fun does not mean that your 15 ton destructo-boat can’t put other peoples’ lives in jeopardy. Think before you boat.

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[Image credit: inquisitr.com]

Ways to Increase Your Safety

I take the issue of safety very seriously, perhaps more so than the average person. Due to some abuse I experienced in my childhood, I have been diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). It gets triggered when I feel as if people in positions of authority don’t have my best interests at heart, or when I don’t feel safe for whatever reason.

Given my history, I could have chosen to live my life in fear and hide from the world, or I could have become clingy, assumed a victim mentality and placed my security in the hands of others, but I choose not to hide behind some man. First of all, you can’t always count on the fact that one will be there when you need him. Second, if you spend all your time cowering behind someone else, your view ahead is very limited. You could miss a lot of good stuff that way.

So here are some tricks I’ve picked up over the years, either through safety classes put on by the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office, instructional videos, common sense, or learning from the mistakes of others. I hope these tips help others live more independent lives as well.

  • Make sure you have efficient locks on all your windows and doors, and adequate lighting. Put a chain on your door that isn’t too long.
  • Never open your door to a stranger. Talk through the door if necessary. If you know you’re going to have to open the door, for example, if you’re expecting a pizza delivery, shout loudly over your shoulder, “I’ll get it!” You never want someone to think you’re alone.
  • Never sit in your car in a parking lot with the doors unlocked.
  • If someone walks up to you and you’re getting a bad vibe, before they’re too close, say, “Don’t I know your mother?” Criminals do not like to be known.
  • If you aren’t feeling comfortable, and you can have a friend watch out for you when you’re walking to your car, for example, don’t be hesitant to ask. You would do the same for them, wouldn’t you? Don’t let your pride override your instincts. But also don’t live your life counting on that person to be there. Accept your limitations, but also try to reduce them whenever possible. Your safety is your own responsibility.
  • Avoid “sliders”. This is a new phenomenon. When pumping gas, many women leave their purse on the seat in the unlocked car. Sliders will drive up beside your passenger side, hop out, quietly open your passenger door and steal your purse. So when pumping gas, keep your purse with you or lock your doors.
  • Never open your door to leave the house before first looking out the window or peep hole. You never know who might be standing there.
  • Carry keys in your hand. Don’t fumble for keys at your door. Keys can also make an effective weapon when interwoven between your fingers.
  • If you can avoid carrying a purse, do so. Pockets are better than fanny packs, which are better than purses. If you have to carry a purse, keep the zipper closed, the flap turned inward toward your body, in front of you and away from the street, and rest your hand on it as you walk. Never leave a purse hanging behind you on a chair in a restaurant.
  • If you have to carry a large amount of money, divide it up and carry it in several compartments.
  • Never enter an elevator with a stranger who makes you feel uncomfortable. When you do ride in an elevator, locate the alarm button in case you need it. Stand next to the control panel. If you suspect trouble, push that alarm button and as many other buttons as possible. Trust your instincts. Allow the other passengers to push the button for their floors, THEN push yours. If you’re feeling at risk, get off at an earlier floor if necessary.
  • When you leave a store, pause at the door and scan the parking lot before heading toward your car. Parking lots are high crime areas.
  • If you’re approached when you’re in your car, lay on the horn, long and loud. Flash your lights. Rev your engine. Step on your brakes. Put on your flashers. Set off the alarm. Do anything to draw attention.
  • Carry a flashlight at night.
  • If someone taps your shoulder, turn, yes, but keep walking, backward, away from him. Talk with your hands up at shoulder level so you can take action if necessary.
  • Always carry a well charged cell phone.
  • Never assume that clean cut young man is a good guy. Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes. The vast majority of criminals, however, are males between the ages of 15 and 25, so pay particular attention to them.
  • If someone pulls a weapon on you and says, “Give me your wallet,” by all means, give it to them. But don’t just hand it over. Throw it and run in the opposite direction.
  • Take self-defense classes if you can. There are all sorts of nifty wrist releases that you can learn that are beyond the scope of this blog entry. There are also a ton of wrist release and self-defense videos on Youtube. Check them out and practice with a friend.
  • Don’t be afraid to use your voice. Scream. Sadly, you’ll be more likely to get attention if you scream “Fire!” as opposed to “Help!” or “Rape!”.
  • People assume women will be quiet and polite. More than once I’ve turned to a potential bad guy and shouted, “BACK OFF!!!” They all practically soiled themselves while running away.
  • People also don’t expect a “normal” looking person to act crazy. So don’t be afraid to babble, foam at the mouth, twitch, even rub dirt in your hair and eat grass if you have to. It will freak them out, which will give you the psychological upper hand.
  • If someone grabs you, don’t struggle with the grabbed hand. While it’s holding you, you are also holding it. Worry about the other hand.
  • If someone pushes you, they will expect you to resist the push. So don’t. Pull. It will throw them off balance. Similarly, if someone pulls you, don’t resist the pull. Push.
  • Strike straight ahead if possible. It will block their vision. And go for the chin and nose.
  • Anything can be a weapon. A rolled up magazine to the Adam’s apple or a credit card or some folded glasses to the eyeball can do a lot of damage.
  • If your car breaks down and a stranger approaches, tell him or her that someone has already called the police and they’re on their way. Keep your cell phone to your ear and pretend to be talking on it. Or, if you let a good Samaritan change a tire for you, they shouldn’t be offended if you stay in the locked car while they do so.
  • Whenever possible, vary your routine. Try not to be predictable. But at the same time, if you’ll be doing something unusual, let someone you trust know where you’re going and how long you’ll be gone.
  • If your state has a sex offender database, look up the locations of the sex offenders in your neighborhood. If you live in an urban area, you’ll most likely be horrified. I have 15 living in a two mile radius of me. Mostly these people like to prey on small children. But lawbreakers are lawbreakers, and some sex offenders like to steal identities so they can hide. Get to know their faces.
  • If you have a chance, chat with the beat cop who works in your neighborhood. He can tell you about hot spots, gang activity, crime trends, things to look out for. It never hurts to be on a first name basis with your beat cop.
  • If you ever have to give your car key to someone, like a parking attendant or an oil change clerk, ALWAYS remove the key from your key chain. Never hand your house keys to anyone. They can be copied.
  • Create the illusion of multiple occupants in your home. People are less apt to break into a home if there’s a chance that someone is there.
  • Put a sign by your doorbell that says, “One person in this house works nights and sleeps during the day. Please do not disturb.”
  • Leave some old muddy work boots on your front porch. (Although I have to say that the last time I did this, the boots were, ironically, stolen.)
  • If you go out at night, leave some lights on in the house. You can even get timers so they will go off and on at preset times.
  • Get a dog. It doesn’t even have to be a big one. Just a noisy one. Bad guys hate noise. If you can’t have a dog, create the illusion of one. Put up beware of dog signs. Leave a BIG water bowl and a heavy duty chain in a visible place. Buy some toys, have a friend’s dog chew on them so they look used, and then leave those toys scattered in the yard.
  • If you can’t afford a security system, you can buy a motion detector alarm from Radio Shack, and place it high enough up in a room that it won’t be triggered by children or pets, but it will alert you if anyone enters the front part of your house while you sleep.
  • Keep your shades down at night.
  • If you have a remote entry to your car, you can always trigger your car alarm from inside the house if you need to draw attention.
  • If you have keyless entry to you car, make sure you block the keypad with your body so no one nearby can see your entry code. And of course do the same thing at the ATM machine.
  • Be aware of your surroundings. Scope out potential hiding places: shrubs, parked cars, blind alleys, dark corners. Give them a wide berth. Be alert. Don’t get distracted by your cell phone. Look around and also use your peripheral vision. Listen for movement behind you, too. If you can’t avoid dangerous places, have your tear gas in your hand and ready to be used.
  • Talk to your friends and family about safety. Share ideas. Share this blog entry. And if you have any other safety tips, please include them in the comments section below. Knowledge is power.

Remember, only you can assume complete mental and physical responsibility for your well-being. I can’t guarantee that any of the above ideas will work, but I certainly hope they’ll reduce your risk. It would be nice if there were always some big strong guy to come to your rescue, but relying on that creates a false sense of security. If you put your welfare solely in someone else’s hands, you’re living in a fool’s paradise. Be alert. Be safe.

Female self defense

[Image credit: rawfitnesssaratoga.com]