Passing Through, But Of Course You Knew

Something I've mused about in the past is what it feels like under different sets of circumstances to travel by foot. I've written about walking through well-to-do neighborhoods where I feel as if I might be picked up by police on the grounds that my presence is suspicious. Yesterday I found myself in that scenario again. In fact, I walked through an awfully nice neighborhood twice, to and from my Toastmasters meeting.

It's a novel thing to travel slowly along a nice residential street. It's very quiet and inactive, and yet being there for a while gives you the opportunity to see what actually is happening. You see the one or two residents walking dogs or jogging, and you see the armies of service workers who make the neighborhood go. You see some of the nice cars that people who live there drive, but mostly you see pickup trucks and delivery vans.

There was a funny thing about one of the roads. To one side there was a row of awfully nice houses. To the other side there was a fence fortified by thick, lush vegetation. On the other side of the fence was a golf course, and I guess they didn't want their patrons to have their experience marred by the sight of this very expensive neighborhood. I tried to reason it out, and could only guess that they wanted something like the isolated experience you get at Disney World as opposed to Disney Land, where you can see the not-so-magical city of Anaheim from many vantage points.

It really is pleasant enough to walk instead of drive or ride, and I think most people would benefit in a myriad of ways if they did it themselves. They might enjoy better health, they might better know the community of which they are a part, and they might collectively force the city to install sidewalks where there are presently none (forcing me to walk in the road or on the lawns of those probably very nice rich people).