Yesterday, for (almost) the first time in 14 years of living in Dhaka, I lost it. I stood outside my office and yelled at the top of my lungs. (The university students lingering nearby promptly burst into spontaneous applause.) I used to find it wrong that crossing the street is the most dangerous thing I do every day. Now I realize the real problem: ten times a week I risk life and limb for no more noble purpose than to get to and from my office. Up until yesterday, I at least had a refuge: if I could get halfway across I could step up onto the median and stand in safety while waiting for a gap in traffic. No more. During the night, barbed wire was used to cover the gaps. Now I have to cross at street level, where there is only about a foot-wide strip of safe space to share with my two dogs and other pedestrians. Worse, the barbed wire is virtually invisible from the sidewalk; one could easily get halfway across only to face a choice between becoming entangled in the barbed wire or risking being run over. Mind you, this is a road in a mixed use area full of apartments, shops, restaurants, universities, offices, and medical facilities (perhaps they need more business?); many people cross the road, and presumably this irritates the drivers. Upon reflection, I see another lesson here. I am now motivated to fight all the similar moves around the city to pen pedestrians behind barbed wire, cement barricades, and metal railings. Idiotic and dangerous strategies to prevent street crossings have long occurred here; only now that I am affected have I been roused to protest. While this feels like inexcusable selfishness in my own case, it is also a healthy reminder of the need to get policymakers out of their cars and on foot, on bicycles, and on public transit if we ever wish to improve the situation for all people- and urban-friendly modes of transport.