Running Amuck

During my three weeks in the US, I think I must8217;ve involved in almost 100 hit and run cases with people on foot. I am not exaggerating. And I am not being paranoid.

Try this for a reality bite. I was nearly mowed down by a pram. Rather far-fetched you think. But what if the pram looked like a Formula One car, sort of like the ones designed by Ferrari or Mclaren? Low-slung vehicles, hugging the ground for better grip, they come with huge 8212; nearly two feet in diameter 8212; wheels and 10-speed gears. Propelled by new mothers determined to fit into their pre-fat clothes. Try making it past one of these, worse still, try being a walker in the way of an oncoming four-wheel drive perambulator. You are knocked down, pushed over and chances are, instead of an apology, a dirty diaper flung your way.

Lake Michigan Chicago8217;s monster lake that would give any river and some seas a complex was no better. The impatient whirr of pedals or the thundering pace of lycra legs brushed me aside like a fly.

I dashed off to San Francisco hoping to evade this constant bruising and scraping of knees and ego but my luck had run out. Day One, Hour Two, in San Francisco8217;s downtown area and I was black and blue. People even run in the Bay area office district. The only difference being that they are so immaculately groomed and sculpted you would think they had just stepped out of the pages of Men8217;s Health, GQ or Vanity Fair.

What really got my goat however, was not their plastic perfection; it was the Roller Bladers. I am certain they chased me all the way from the mid-West to the West Coast. You see, by then I had become a Roller Blade magnet. They drove in to me, knocked me down and skidded past my toes. But most of all they screeched to a halt inches away from my nose 8212; just to see my hair stand. Finally, I fell on my knees and screamed surrender. I had to. Imagine a regular skate; take away the two rows of wheels on either side. Replace it with just one row of wheels running down the centre. Imagine the problem you would have balancing. Then imagine the speed you would require just to remain standing. Add that up and it equals hell on the streets.

My personal hell. Because time is running out. The Roller Bladers know I am leaving soon and I8217;ve heard that they are taking to the streets enmasse. The word is out: They have to get me.

And, no, I am not being paranoid. A Roller Blader told me so. Just as she knocked me off my feet.

Nonita Kalra is the features editor, The Indian Express.