I have discovered the lost art of "clapping."
When walking downtown, I see most drivers waiting to pull out onto the street with their heads turned looking away from me. I am not about to walk in front of their car unless they can look me in the eye.
So I clap. Three times.
They turn just in time to see me cross in front of their car. I go my merry way on the sidwalk while they resume looking for a space in traffic as they tell their cell-phone buddy about the weird clapping people in Atlanta.