Frogs are people, too

Day five:   Looking both ways

Anyone remember that old video game called "Frogger," the one where the idea was to move your little frog across the road without him getting smashed by cars?

Side note:  Typing that just made me think of growing up a country girl in the middle of the blazing hot Arizona desert.  I'm suddenly remembering walking down the dirt road in front of our house during the summer months and finding the crispy, paper-thin carcasses of frogs who hadn't quite made it to the other side.  You wouldn't believe what an afternoon in the Arizona sun will do to the slimy remains of a recently mowed-down amphibian.  I would even pick them up.  It's true. You do NOT want to know the kinds of stuff these hands touched during my childhood years.  I could go daaaaays without bathing.

But I digress.

Working at a major university, there are days (like Monday through Friday), when I feel like somebody has plunked me down in the middle of a game of Frogger.  I'm the car.  College students are the frogs.  Suicidal frogs.

January.  Dead of winter. Sheets of ice and sludge on the roads.  I'm driving through an intersection as a seemingly intelligent student meanders along the sidewalk to my right.  Suddenly, without even turning her head one way or the other to check for traffic, she's in the crosswalk in the middle of the street.

How did she--?  Why would she--?  Is she mentally--?

These are the thoughts racing through my head (throw in some four-letter words if you want the full effect) just as I'm getting my money's worth out of my anti-lock brakes.  Picture a screaming, swearing, panic-stricken woman in a mini-van swerving and sliding all over the street in an attempt to avoid hitting one not-so-innocent pedestrian.  Also imagine said pedestrian being completely oblivious to the five car pile-up she has just caused.  Onward she hops...er...walks...hurriedly toward her lily pad...er...destination.

Hey, she's late for driver's ed.  No time for such trivial matters as safety or being aware of her surroundings.

Though the incident I refer to here happened in winter, this is not merely a seasonal problem. Class is in session year round.  And when class is in session, students are everywhere.  EVERYWHERE, I tell you!   Darting into the street like frogs in a video game.

Stupid, blind, suicidal frogs.

Hey, don't mind all of us insignificant people driving the cars.  After all, we've got brakes and we know how to use 'em, right?

I wonder what an afternoon in the Utah sun does to the remains of freshly mowed-down college students.  Something tells me it won't be long before I find out.

Sorry I'm not sorry.