Even crossing with the light these days, there's no guarantee we'll make it to the other side. I almost got run over last week—not by a car or bus, but by a rollerblader. Going in reverse, no less. He was boogeying to the music on his iPod, describing semi-circles in the middle of Fifth Avenue. We didn't make contact because I jumped out of the way, shouting something like "Watch out," or "Excuse me." Of course he didn't hear me, the noise on his headphones drowning everything else out.

I'm not a confrontational person. I...