Crossing the Street

I heard on the tv-internet today that 70 people die in Italy every day trying to cross the street. I just caught the story in passing, so I'm thinking that I probably missed something important. (Maybe it was 70 people per year?) But here's the thing: I believe it. This reminds me that I came to a decision yesterday: I will never ski in Italy. How did I come to this decision yesterday? Yet again I was running, and yet again I was amazed at how little awareness the average Italian pedestrian has of her surroundings. Top example (just of Yesterday's Examples . . . the Universe of Examples is almost overwhelmingly dense, and certainly too difficult to survey for this morning's commentary): Space for two-and-half people across the width of the sidewalk. Little old lady walking on the right. I go to pass her on the left. I'm about a pace and half behind her, in the "passing lane," and - BAM! - a middle-aged woman approaching us, and carrying - as Dave Barry would say, "I'm not making this up" - a scooter moves from her position in the (my) right-hand lane, into the passing lane, directly parallel now with the little old lady, and entirely blocks of the sidewalk. She embraces the little old lady, mounts her scooter ACROSS the passing lane, and starts a lengthy conversation. And here's the thing: she was APPROAcHING us! So she could clearly see (unless she was blind, in which case she shouldn't be allowed on that scooter) the unfolding traffic pattern. She could've waited literally two seconds for me to pass. But no.

Moral of the story: If Italian sidewalks are this dangerous, no way I'm chancing the slopes.