Now, those crabs have got it half right, they who are twice as developed as we are, although I’m not saying we are dumber—I would feel pretty comfortable taking on a crab in Mahjong, or any arthropod for that matter; I am speaking solely in terms of systems of locomotion: the crabs have quite simply got us there.

And when I say us, I mean you, because I personally have got one up even on the crabs. Of course I need to walk sideways sometimes, as the crabs always do and as everyone else sometimes must, to fit through or to avoid detection or what have you, but, as a rule, I walk backwards. It has been almost three years now since I last walked facing forward, and I no longer know why anyone would, who has really thought about it. Most people haven’t, though, and even then there would be those who stuck with forwardness for the sake of tradition, and those who avoided new trends because they take pride in such avoidance for its own sake, like people (I know quite a few) who refuse to use a cellular phone, even though it would be great for their job and family, “so as not to be like all those people who use cell phones,” whatever kind of person that is. I know lots of different types who use them.

Most of those, however, still walk in a forward orientation, and, like I said, they don’t even think about it, and that is why I am writing this, just like the guy who invented cell phones probably wrote an article whose basic message was why are you still walking around like that when you could be talking to someone far away at the same time. I bet no one gave him a hard time for that.

I will gladly reveal, right off, the chief reason for walking backwards at all times: no one can follow you without your knowledge. It’s a little-considered statistical fact that pedestrians are being followed 99 percent of the time, and almost 100 percent of that time they have no idea by whom. When you’re walking backward, it’s quite simple; pursuers and incidental trailers are in plain view, and I hardly need to make an argument for the fact that you are much less likely to be shot, stabbed, or otherwise punctured in the back. Many injurious and fatal attacks currently target the back, and while I am not the sort to guarantee the ceasing of such incidents (there will always be wackos), the one is bad enough principle tells us that if we can eliminate any backstabbings at all, we will have done some good in this world.

The attentive reader will have noted, perhaps commented aloud to a nearby drinker of chai, that many who follow us when we walk are not strangers, let alone ill-intentioned, but are in fact aquaintances of various degrees. So much the better! Friends may be hard enough to come by; why minimize your odds of recognizing them? Furthermore, I confess that in my forward days I occasionally trailed an acquaintance, knowingly, wavering in my decision whether or not to greet. How I wish the target had turned, seen me, and thus made the choice plain! Enough decisions are daily made. Any amiable citizen of the world should surely wish to lighten others’ burdens by making the to-greet-or-not-to-greet choice simpler for them.

Now, we can all acknowledge that there are but two ways to monitor those who walk behind: either we can employ a sort of rear view mirror, or we can walk backward. The former method may seem appealing at first, but is opposed by issues ranging from financial to sartorial. Such a mirror device would cost money, of course, but it would also need to be polished, perhaps oiled, depending on the mechanism, and periodically replaced. Moreover, it would surely soon function as a divider of the classes, with standard models running at only a few times the cost of manufacturing, and the cost of others soon exceeding three or even four digits, what with ornamentation, lights, radio receivers, and other amenities. Need we yet another exacerbator of the class struggle? Besides, the affixation element of the mirror would cause severe damage to the coiffure, and the whole apparatus would be difficult to keep from looking—pardon my French—dorky.

The mirror is out. We are left with backward walking, and I am pleased to announce that there are other advanatages to this option. Anyone who has trained as a defensive back in football knows that walking and running backward are excellent developers of the calf muscles, especially the upper gastrocnemius, whose fitness renders the athletic yet unbrute upper calf definition so highly (and vainly, in both senses of the word) sought after. Walking forward, incidentally, targets the soleus, or lower calf muscle, more directly, often effecting a thick-ankled look and thus minimizing the pleasant taper responsible for high contrast between calf and ankle.

Of course backward walkers need to turn their head at times to see where they are going, and more than one objector has smugly noted that it makes as much sense to walk forward and periodically check for followers. This does make sense—until one thinks about image and impression. Imagine someone walking along facing forward, glancing over their shoulder at short intervals. I think this pedestrian is paranoid! Of course he is; if not, he certainly looks like it. Who wants to look so worried, yea, neurotic? Rightly or not, we judge such glancers as timid, uncertain at best, and—I’ll say it again: paranoid.

Here I think we may rest our case, for no one resolutely walking backward has ever looked paranoid.