As I untangled my legs from a stranger’s bicycle and peeled my body off the pavement, I checked my limbs for signs of blood or broken bones – luckily, I found neither.

Just the day before, while noticing the crazy intersections with bicycles, cars, trams, busses, and scooters crossing each other’s paths, I had made a comment about having to look 17 ways before crossing anywhere. Apparently I should have said 18 ways, because I missed one when I trusted the green crosswalk sign, stepped out, and got pulverized by a bicycle.

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