When in Rome
For nearly the entire decade-plus during which Yours Truly has resided here in
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Your Humble Chronicler has been befuddled, boggled, confused and generally disheartened by some of the behavioral patterns and styles of The Natives. After as many years of observation and interaction with The Natives, I can only conclude that they have some pretty strange ideas about what constitutes behavior characteristic of civilized societies. We will here examine how these strange ideas manifest themselves in the arena of so-called "responsible driving." I have struggled personally to understand it over the years, and only just recently experienced what might be considered a Breakthrough in determining some of the parameters used by The Natives, the 'Burghers, the Yinzers, the Sun-Deprived as regards their driving behaviors. These behaviors, coupled with their
regional accent, so strong at times as to border on being a
dialect, goes some way towards establishing native-born Pittsburghites as an
endogenous population. But -- forgive me, Dear Readers, for getting quite ahead of myself.
That They Speak Real Funny around here is an observation which is neither new, nor unknown; in fact, it may generally be said that there is near national acceptance of this Weirdness of Speech. Studies (see above links), some informal, some scholarly, have even been conducted which trace the annoying-somewhat-less-nasally-than-Cleveland accent as being rooted in the heavy immigrant influx of the 1800's and 1900's. During that time, thanks largely to the cutthroat industrialist capitalist activities of such
Robber Baron Royalty as Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick, Pittsburgh became a hotbed (literally, as the alchemical conversion of iron ore to steel by way of hellish coke-fueled ovens filled the skies along the three rivers with blue and orange flames, and kept the air grey and often smelling of sulphur dioxide) of opportunity for unskilled laborers from Germany, Ireland, Italy and Poland (the Asians and Russians held off until more recent times), whose command of their new language was less than commanding. To make a very long and well-documented story short, Carnegie and Frick needed strong arms and backs in their steel mills, not strong communicators. But, whereas I got ahead of myself in the previous paragraph, in this one, I digress.
Your Humble Chronicler actually grew up just over an hour from this metropolis. Growing up, I recall that the general sense among Those of My Tribe was that people whose vehicles bore license plates revealing their origin to be "Pennsylvania" were somewhat reckless drivers, prone towards excessive acceleration, fairly aggressive road behavior and other Sins of the Lead-Footed. I can't say that I personally agree with this; having lived here for over ten years, I will say that, yes, Pennsylvanians tend to drive faster and more aggressively than people in smaller cities. I can also attest to a marked naivete among people of smaller towns and cities, which becomes immediately apparent when they describe a small cluster of say a dozen or so cars waiting at a light at an intersection as "heavy traffic." This is silly, but nonetheless I'd bet that's true just about anywhere, except Montana, which, at last check, was still embracing freedom through state's rights to such an extent that its residents are permitted, on some roads, to select their own speed limits. So, it's not so much that PGH drivers are speed demons, as that people from small towns have a warped concept of the notion of "
fast."
This would not be a concept that would work in The Commonwealth; however, it is a concept that The Natives would fight for, albeit in a lip-service-with-no-real-intention-of-following-through kinda way. Perhaps influenced by their Irish roots, always planning to run out of food, always expecting the world to end, if not tomorrow, then in a week. In other words, they'd make a lot of noise about it, but nothing would happen. The Natives, you see, generally choose "entitlement" over "acountability." They regularly fight just to fight. They jump into brawls that have nothing to do with them personally, so desperate are they for excitement of any kind, for real drama, for the stuff of stories and legend. Here, perhaps, it's the genetic impact of decades of blue-collar pro-union lifestyles manifesting itself as "in-your-face" behavior which comes out in various ways. Everyone wants to be protected and represented. Yet, when it comes to the fine art of negotiation, the Native Individual much prefers to settle the score with loud voices and exchanges of Neanderthal insults, perhaps in a bar. Or, perhaps in the street, where fisticuffs have yet to be completely eradicated from the list of acceptable public activities; while not encouraged, they are not forbidden. (This entire discussion, it seems, is conducive to digression.)
Anyhew -- you're driving along, minding your own business, paying attention to your driving. Generally, life on the road is pretty manageable. Until, that is, your driving experience intersects with the age-old concept of "Right of Way." Ay -- that's when things get strange.
Road Rage-aholics
- The Oncoming Traffic Dilemma -- You're stopped, first in line, at a red light, with oncoming traffic. Doesn't matter if there are two opposing lanes, or one, or two-to-one. The light changes -- what do you do? Before you answer quickly, confidently -- even smugly, maybe -- first consider where you are. In most of the civilized driving world, when the light turns green, it is common to respond by gradually accelerating and proceeding cautiously through the intersection. However, for purposes of this thought experiment, you are in Pittsburgh. And, in Pittsburgh, when the light changes, The Natives fully expect that you will wait for the first one, two or three cars (it remains unclear to This Reporter what the exact number is, if there is any such standard) in the opposing inside lane, those waiting for the light to change so they can make a lefthand turn, to make their turns in front of you. And they completely assume that you are aware of this, and that you furthermore agree with it in principle, and that you will, without question, allow for this to happen. In fact, you may expect people to begin making left-hand turns in front of you, against oncoming traffic, as soon as the light changes. They even hold up their hands in the universal "thank you" wave, as if you gave them some overt signal to just come on through.
If you don't allow for this assumptive and annoying little control game to play out on The Natives' terms, you should expect them to start to turn in front of you anyway, then to very dramatically *slam!* on their brakes in a shameful and embarassing display of miscommunication, and to be not only irritated with you for failing to adhere to what can only be described as some type of high-gear ethnocentric driving behavior, but to quite possibly be openly furious with you for simply adhering to what you thought was generally a tried-and-true and near universally accepted right of way tradition.
Not here.
If you're expecting a moral to this story, you're shit out of luck.
- El Pollo Loco -- In our next example, you're again driving along, minding your road manners and your own business. You turn down a residential street, relaxed, perhaps anticipating that you'll soon be home, having survived another day of capitalism, or you'll soon be at a friend's place, relaxing over some music and conversation, or you'll soon be in the warm and welcoming arms of your sweetie, whose place always smells like lavender candles. So, you make this turn onto your typical residential street. Cars are randomly parked on both sides, as is common on most city streets in most city neighborhoods most anywhere in parts of America with older infrastructures ("older" is used here to imply that sidewalks are still extant, unlike in the 'burbs, where you must Run Free in the Streets. Perhaps 'burbs of the future will be clothing optional as well.)
[ Aside. Another intriguing bit of Local Vehicular Zoning Information: If you have a driveway (we say "if" because there's often a marked lack of garages and driveways in the typical older big city neighborhood), in order for it to be legal to park your vehicle in your driveway, it must extend far enough up the side of your house so that you can park your vehicle with the edge of the parked vehicle not extending beyond the virtual plane established by the front face of your residence. In other words, you can't simply park your car off the street and off the sidewalk. How bizarre is that? Pretty bizarre, says The Band, though they admit that it may help explain the origins of yet another widespread and odd tradition -- that of saving spaces with chairs.
Incidentally, for those who are seriously intrigued by this, here's another tidbit: If you fail to adhere to the above regulation of the City of Pittsburgh, you can be fined. In other words, if you have the nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to park your vehicle in your driveway on your property, you can still get Slapped by The Man for Not Doing it His Way. Isn't that lovely?? (It is a strange state. But the weather sucks!) Addendum: I tried but was unable to actually locate this statute. Ed. ]
Back to our story. You turn down your street. And you notice that a car is coming in the opposite direction, towards you, on the opposite side of the street, where you would expect it. It has been This Reporter's experience that, in such a situation, the correct thing to do is, first, use that wonderful blob of wetware that you were born with to do some quick and painless calculus to determine whether there is enough room for both of you to pass side by side without colliding. If so, do that. If not, obviously one of you needs to pull over. Rather, one of you should pull over. We won't split hairs here, though, because, if this situation occurs in Pittsburgh, it doesn't seem to matter to The Natives whether there's enough room or not, let alone who actually has right of way. Instead, if you are the Non-Native driver, you will get the clear impression from the oncoming driver that you are expected to move over. For them. Every time. Regardless.
How is this signal made clear? Put simply, the oncoming driver appears to make a conscious choice to drive not further left of center -- oh, no -- but instead even closer to the center of the street. Like in the no longer fashionable (as far as I know) game of "chicken," wherein two brainless drivers face off at opposite ends of some straight, flat open space and, upon some signal, point their vehicles directly at each other and drive headlong as fast as they can towards their opponent's radiator grill. Whoever turns away first loses. You get the picture. The question, however, remains: How has this dated, macho testosterone-poisoned type-A alpha male urban bonding/dominance game seeped into the otherwise peaceful task of daily civilian driving?
I don't have an answer, though I suspect it has something to do with items touched on in paragraphs two and three, above. The Natives appear to be somewhat genetically wired to confrontational behavior. They are argumentative, and obstinate when they don't get their way. (Tourists should generally expect suddent displays of histrionics to substitute for enlightened behavior.) However, if you're anything like me, Dear Readers, this driving dynamic bothers you on many levels. It bothers you because it's assumptive, not to mention weird. Because it's rude, not to mention dangerous. Because no one has ever offered any indication that there is any reason for it. The closest thing to a reason that the Non-Native driver will experience will be the righteous indignation that you feel leveled at you when, innocent and unsuspecting, you find yourself in this situation and you do the standard considerate thing, which is to carefully guage the available space between the imaginary center line of the street and the very real side panels of the cars parked along the right side of the street to assure that there is indeed room for both vehicles to pass each other comfortable, and then to maintain your conservative speed (or possibly decrease it), and gently steer as far to the right of center as you can without sideswiping the parked vehicles. But, assume things work this way in Pittsburgh and you can almost expect to be flipped off with impunity by the oncoming Native driver.
What's most bizarre to me -- aside from the overtly aggressive nature of this behavior, which makes it innately unattractive -- is that it's totally counter-intuitive to what a reasonable -- and reasonably seasoned -- driver would do in a similar circumstance. If anything, you would think that if a driver felt that there wasn't enough room, instinct (for survival), experience (from years of driving) and intuition ("let's see -- that car's coming right at me -- what to do?") would first encourage and then scream at you to get out of the way. Yet, this doesn't happen. I can't even count how many times I've had to swerve at the last minute to avoid clashing driver's side mirrors with one of these yokels, or just giving up in dismay, almost automatically pulling over when I see them coming, preferring to swallow my sense of reason rather than risk getting sucked into some twisted game of who's-the-toughest. I have pondered this for years now, seeking some resolution, or -- if that is unatainable -- then at least some rationale for this strange and antisocial behavior. At this date, I am happy to report that I think I've uncovered a pattern. But, I'm unhappy to say that it's not a very attractive one, at that.
I will share my theory with you, Dear Readers. The pattern is one of standard schoolyard bully behavior. When local drivers find themselves in this situation, what appears to happen is that they attempt, through "bullying" behavior, to manipulate the situation so that they forcibly secure right of way. Their "strategy" is to try to be the first vehicle to pull closer to the imaginary center line and charge down the street. I know, I know -- it's damned hard to believe. Yet, I've been living with this for over ten years now, and I swear to you that I'm not making it up. I've experimented with it. For instance, if I see a car coming toward me and I simply opt to sidle over to the curb and wait for the oncoming driver to pass me, then everyone's happy -- no one's got their superiority complex all bruised and shit, or their control freak panties in a wad. Contrarily, if I see an oncoming car and I drift just a few inches closer to the center, and simultaneously increase my speed, my "opponent," the oncoming driver, will almost immediately pulls over and wait, reluctantly, for me to pass before they resume their travel. And there you have it. Chicken. The game is up.
{ ~ sigh ~ }
I still don't understand why people drive this way here. Where do they learn this? It's consistent enough that one could hypothesize that it's taught to them in The Commonwealth's driver's education courses. Or one might be tempted to guess that perhaps they learn it from their fathers, who traditionally is the first to school the Apprentice Child Driver in the Ways of the Road. It may be of interest to some readers that the above-described behavior is evidenced equally by males and females. This differs from another strange driving behavior -- that being the Rapid Acceleration from a Dead Stop behavior, which appears to be more in evidence among female drivers, though it is perhaps only manifested when the dead stop includes a female driver in one lane and a male driver in the other. Test it for yourself -- it's fairly safe. When you next find yourself at a read light, look over to see who is driving the vehicle immediately parallel to your vehicle. Both of you need to be first in line at the light. When the light changes, note what happens; typically, if the other driver is a female, she will appear to try to accelerate faster than you do, whereas, if the other driver is a male, his reaction to the light changing from red to green will be anyone's guess. Try it out. Very strange.
I, The Victor
Addendum: Your Humble Chronicler again had the opportunity to test the above theory on the way home from the office this very evening. The act of writing
at length about this topic earlier in the day must have been more than simply cathartic for me. Turning onto one such residential street a block from my house on my way home, the sight of an oncoming car at the other end of the block triggered some internal meta-programming, possibly tuned by the devotion of my attention to chronicling these observations. Because, as soon as I saw the car, I felt the tell-tale surge of adrenalin that, roughly translated, indicated strongly that The Games Had Begun. So I instinctively dosed my trusty
heather-mist Accord V-tech with some additional petrol, and simultaneously steered precariously closer to the center line. My "opponent" was obviously a veteran of these competitions, because being familiar with the Rules of Engagement -- and apparently sensing that his position had been rendered more or less inferior by my superior opening move -- he immediately pulled to the left, and thereby conceded the match.
His only attempt at competing was to blow his horn in defeated annoyance as I flew past him.
It's always hard to watch former titans fall.
You should be amused to know that I, the Victor, found it impossible to refrain from making a little kissy-face at him.
Before you Leave
Lo, it is all such vitriol and bile, piss and vinegar. Since you likely wandered in here not looking for a fight, The Band though it best to provide you with an opportunity to cleanse your palate before resuming your travels elsewhere. We thought this fit the bill nicely (excerpt below):
THE AFFLUENT and choleric comptroller heinously inveigled herbs from the impious valet who often harasses the dour governor with aplomb. The funny thing about this sentence (aside from the fact that it really doesn’t make any sense) is that it is mostly made up of words that can be pronounced in at least two distinctly different ways, regardless of the speaker’s accent or regional dialect. That is, when pronouncing these words, the speaker has a choice, whether to stress one syllable or another, or to pronounce a letter that for other people is silent, or to substitute or lose certain sounds. Because of all these choices, many speakers hesitate when pronouncing these words. The entries listed below will inform you about these words, and, we hope, will make you more comfortable about pronouncing them....
Ciao for now, bella. Have a good weekend.
