And those are just the official drivers. In summer, the city gets flooded with all flavors of tour bus operators, most of whom have no experience with city driving and have never observed a pedestrian in its natural habitat. My daily walk home has gone from pleasant diversion to high-stakes Frogger.
The primary issue is that these tour bus troublemakers have never learned how to yield to a pedestrian. So I get stuck playing this game of chicken where I have the light, put one foot in the crosswalk, and stare down the driver until he stops the bus and lets me pass. Sometimes, instead of stopping, he'll nudge me out of the intersection. In a game of Tour Bus vs. Mighty Munchkin, there are no winners.
I'm fighting back, though. Every day, I carry a pen and a piece of paper. I also keep my cameraphone handy. I write down the bus company, vehicle number, intersection, time, and date, and call their employer as soon as I get home. I don't know how much it does, but it feels pretty good.
In the comments, tell me how you deal with homicidal tour bus drivers. Or just bitch about tourist season in general.
*Am I the only one who kind of wishes the police officer dressed as McGruff had been a woman? Because then the driver could have said, "The bitch set me up?" Just me? OK.