“It takes courage to cross the street in our part of the world,” Mr Brown said to Mr White. “Not many Westerners have that kind of courage.”
“Courage I have plenty,” Mr White said. “Teach me!”
“Your eyes,” Mr Brown said. “It is all in your eyes.”
“I have eyes,” Mr White said. “Two of my own and two from Specssavers. Who shall I eye?”
“You don’t eye. You LOCK eyes,” Mr Brown said. “You look at the motorcyclist hurtling at you and you tell him don’t f***k with me. You look at the bus driver speeding towards you and you tell him, I will crush you to pulp! All with your eyes.”
“With your eyes?”
“With your eyes,” Mr Brown said. “And your body language. For the few seconds you cross the road, OWN it. Believe you are the King of Nepal.”
“Uh-oh!” Mr White said. “Didn’t he come to a gory end?”
“Fine. King of Norway then.”
“Oh, no! He has no hair!”
“What I mean is, show no fear,” Mr Brown said, patiently. “Do not look indecisive or back down. Do not do Bharata Natyam in the middle of the road.”
“Dance,” Mr Brown said. “Don’t do it.”
“Okay. No dance, show no fear, look like Herald V. Got it.”
“Good. Follow me then,” said Mr Brown, fearlessly wading into the incoming traffic with steel in his eyes and a snarl on his lip.
When Mr Brown got to the other side, he turned to watch Mr White making his way across, guided by Mr Blue, a dear old friend. Mr Brown thought Mr White indeed looked like Herald V, except for having significantly more facial hair and looking perhaps a tad older. Mr White held on to his nerve but for a little scuttle towards the end.
“I did it! I crossed the road,” Mr White said. “Did you see me cross the road‽”
“You crossed the road! Well done!” said Mr Brown, pretending not to notice the spreading wet patch midway of Mr White.