So I went to traffic school.
Saturday, I spent the day atoning for my sins -- going a little too fast on Sloat Boulevard. Never mind whether or not I was truly guilty, or whether I should have been given a ticket even if I were guilty. The past is gone; it lives only in our memories of it, and in its offspring -- the effects it had on the present.
So there I was, along with seventeen other miscreants. Our crimes were varied, mostly speeders with a few red light runners sprinkled in the mix. The teacher had us go around the room and introduce ourselves and our crimes.
We told our name, occupation, the car we were in, its color, the cost or the ticket, and the cost of spending the day there. In addition, the teacher asked us for the details of our offense, and what the officer's attitude was.
As we answered, she wrote the car make and color, ticket cost, and offense on the blackboard. I assume the intent was to show that it really didn't matter what type or hue of car you drove, you could get a ticket, and that that ticket would be expensive. The fines ranged from $100 up to nearly $300.
Unfortunately, it seemed a waste of time because the only comments she made in reference to the accumulated data was that whereas cops used to target red cars, it seems now that they are after white cars. Light blue was the least likely to be ticketed.
It seemed obvious to me that someone else had developed the curriculum, and this woman was merely teaching it. In addition, she did not explain the cost of today well enough for the majority to understand what she (or the course developer) was after.
For me, the cost was significant -- I was unable to visit my father in the hospital. Most people, however, simply said "twenty dollars" -- the cost of the course. This too, I believe, would have had significant benefit. It might point out that even if public safety was not a concern, self interest might convince these scalawags to drive more legally in the future.
So we watched some videos, took some quizzes, talked a bit. We didn't really learn anything, and I gathered that no one in the class was really interested in learning. I think if they could have paid double or triple the class fee and been able to walk out the door at 9:30 with their certificate, they would have gladly done so.
This is unfortunate, though. The one insight I gained from this experience was how many really bad drivers there are out on the roads, and stupid many of them really are. I always knew that our society was made up of mostly morons, but I just never realized just how many were behind the wheel of a car.
The biggest example of this is the teacher's suprise at the number of speeders in the class -- usually, she said, it was mostly red light runners.
There was no real attempt at any sort of accurate testing. The only quiz the teacher collected was one presented in a made-for-tv show called America's Driving Challenge (sponsored by General Motors.) In the course of about 45 minutes, twenty multiple choice questions were given -- followed immediately by the correct answer.
Naturally, after the first question, everyone simply waited a few seconds and wrote down the provided, correct answer. The teacher was not in the room during this time, but even if she had been, I am not sure she would have prevented this.
I would have liked to have heard more explanations of why each offense was proscribed -- like a graphic demonstration of what can happen when one runs a red light. Instead, we were treated to Red Asphalt 3, which upset no one terribly.
This film, however, gave me insight into exactly how hard it is to me any sort of emergency response personnel -- police, fire, ambulance, etc. The scene of two guys scooping brains off the pavement and into a plastic bag like a batch of spaghetti really showed what they have to go through on a daily basis. They truly have my respect.
I have to admit, however, that I would have just as soon skipped the whole exercise myself, like everyone else. However, unlike the rest of the class, it seems, if I had to be there, i was determined to get something out of it.
After the class, I waited outside for Rachel to come by so we could head over to the hospital. I put the folder with the court papers and the traffic school certificate on top of a trash can, with my notepad on top of it, and my coffee cup (one of the tall ones from Starbucks) on top of that.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind came up, knocked the cup over, flung open the folder, and began strewing papers all over the street. I burst into a flurry of action and began gathering what I could, concentrating on the important papers -- the court paper and the certificate. A couple of people who had been sitting outside a coffee shop next door joined in, as did a parking and traffic control officer (metermaid).
We gathered up pretty much everything, and I moved around the corner out of the wind, clutching the folder for dear life.
As if to drive home the point about the quantity and stupidity of bad drivers, the very next day, I was headed north on 280 just south of the City, when a very large 60's or 70's era american car decided that he wanted to be where I was, and it didn't matter in the least that I was already there.
Later that evening, we were nearly clobbered from behind by a Muni bus that decided to run the red light crossing 19th Avenue, eastbound on Sloat Boulevard.
So, the moral of the story is you're much safer just staying home, but if you can't do that, you're better off taking the bus of train -- at least you'll have some serious mass around you when someone runs into you.