On my walk to work this morning I was passed twice. Initially by a pair of barefooted surfers, holding their boards and whooping loudly as they ran to the beach, and then, a few minutes later, by a rollerblading construction worker in a hard hat and toolbelt.
The crosswalks here count down the number of seconds before the light changes. At most intersections it’s just a digital readout on the far side of the street, but some of them feature a booming male voice yelling out the numbers as they tick by. “Ten,” he’ll say. Then “nine.” And on down to “one.” Most of them leave it at that, but there’s one intersection—my favorite intersection—right by the beach where, after he gets to “one,” the booming voice yells “Run!!!”
A talking crosswalk might not seem like much to you—maybe you live in Japan, for instance, where a friendly yellow Pokemon parachutes down from a flying monorail and holds your hand as you cross the street—but to this country boy from Portland, Oregon, it sounds like the future.