On The Silly Side by Jimmy Del Ponte

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville News belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville News, its staff or publishers.)

Last week I had a meeting at Johnny D’s for our big Somerville High School Alumni show in November at The Somerville Theatre. I walked to the meeting, so when it was over, I called home and asked if the boys wanted me to pick up a pizza at Mike’s. I called Mike’s and ordered a large pizza for take out, then I started to freak out. I was going to be the guy carrying a pizza through Davis Square and up College Ave.

I never carried food home from Davis Square. I always drove. What if someone doesn’t let me cross? What if I drop it? What if I get mad at a motorist for almost hitting me and throw the pizza at him? What if some bully takes it away from me? What if a pack of wild un-leashed dogs (from Powder House Park) chase me and knock me down and eat the pizza?

As I was sitting in Mike’s waiting for the pie to be cooked, I wondered what was wrong with me? Why was I already planning my stressed out, four block, four minute walk home with a pizza box? Has paranoia struck deep, like The Buffalo Springfield sang in the 60’s? Why was I so nervous about walking home with a pizza?

One reason was because I had never carried a pizza through the square and home before. I did however carry a six-pack or two in the old days. Maybe it’s because when we are in our vehicles we are protected. We have more guts, and we are braver in our cars. I can flip someone off when I am in traffic, especially if they are heading the opposite way. If I am walking, and someone doesn’t let me cross and I get mad and yell, they may get out of the car and want to smack me. How can I retaliate with a pizza box in my hands? Hot pizza is probably a pretty good weapon, but then I wouldn’t have a pizza to bring home if I throw it at someone. My mission was to get from Mike’s to my house carrying a pizza with no incidents.

So I sat in Mike’s for 10 minutes waiting. I people watch. Flip flops, tattoos, peircings, scantily clad students of both genders. Did I mention bare feet in flip flops skeeve me? Who the hell wants to see someone’s gross feet, especially in a restaurant. Cover up those hideous dogs, man. Flip flops are for the beach (I know, I will get mail about this statement).

I finally get my pizza, and head home. You would think I was carrying a vial of nitroglycerine. Now I have to cross the deathtrap known as Highland Ave. You are supposed to wait for the walk signal, but also watch out for the drivers that have the green arrow to turn right on College Ave. I don’t wait for the light. I see my chance to dart across the street so I hold on tight to my pizza and run. I start imagining what people are saying. “Look at the chubby guy rushing home with his pizza to stuff his fat face.” All of a sudden I’m a mind reader. I feel like explaining to strangers that I am not going to eat the whole pizza myself. I am going to share it with two growing teenagers.

I realized that it’s easy to relax and act cool and collected when you are behind the wheel of a vehicle. But as soon as you are a pedestrian everything changes. You become defensive, and you should. People drive like they are in a race to get someplace all the time. They rush to beat a yellow light, blow off stop signs, and ignore people trying to cross the street. One young lady at Morrison Ave, had one hand on the steering wheel holding a cigarette, and in the other hand was a cell phone held up to her ear. She ignored me even though I was in the crosswalk. I wasn’t so concerned about my safety as I was about getting that pie home. I thought about throwing the pizza box at her, but then I took a deep breath. I settled for tossing a slice of mild profanities instead of the pizza.

I finally made it home safe and sound from my paranoid pizza run. I realized I spend way too much time in the car but it’s definitely less stressful than walking, and dealing with the stress of trying to compete with selfish motorists. I also realized that a lot of times I am that selfish motorist. Maybe my little pizza adventure will make me a bit more courteous to pedestrians. By the way, after all that I only got one slice!