The van had the light!
The van has a green light. It’s in the middle of the intersection when the teenage girl starts to cross against the light.
An older woman — gray hair; dark coat; big, waddly behind — walks after her and grabs her arm. The teen looks up to see the van and freezes.
The older woman does not pull the girl back to the safety of the curb. Instead she glares at the approaching van and pulls the girl forward.
The van slows its pace but continues forward, causing the woman and teenager to quicken their pace. The woman looks up at the van again and makes an angry hand gesture.
The van stops, allowing the woman and teenager to complete their passage. The van’s light is still green.
When the van finally passes, the older woman turns to the van and yells bitterly, “ASSHOLE!”
“The van had the light!” I point out, but she ignores me and my breach of New York etiquette. “You were the one jaywalking,” I insist, as she continues to mutter about the van’s rudeness. “The van had the light!” (Sometimes I am a bad New Yorker and talk to strangers.)
When I turn, I see a handful of people on the other side, waiting to cross. All of them are watching, and when our eyes meet, all of us start laughing.
