I was walking home down Westminster, past Deno’s Pawn Shop, grocery bag hanging from my right hand, when I heard the swishing sound of someone in snow-pants rapidly gaining on me from behind. I try to exercise as much street ethics as I can, and so, I edged over to the left side of the sidewalk, allowing room on my right side for someone to pass. However, just as a woman in head-to-toe snow gear drew even with me, a black car came speeding down the lane by the Sherb and screeched to a stop right in front of us. Both the woman and I were a bit startled and stood wide-eyed, looking quizzically at the driver through tinted windows. My fellow pedestrian was visibly more distraught than I was, however, and almost immediately shot out like a rabbit, attempting to go around the front of the car. But as she did that, the car pulled forward into traffic, blocking her way again. Exasperated, she threw up her thinsulate gloves, fingers spread out, and cut to her left in front of me, apologizing in a panicked tone: “Everything is just happening at once.” I watched her for a moment, as she cut diagonally across the Sherb parking lot, wondering what exactly she meant.