68 Crabapples for Sucky Walkers
I have a horrible anger-management problem when it comes to a very particular set of people:
Slow walkers.
No, actually: slow walkers doing extraneous tasks while not moving out of the way of the clear-and-present stream of traffic.
Need some examples? Well, sure. Here:
- The girl rummaging through her purse on the left ("it's here that we walk") side of the escalator, seemingly in search of the Magic Pearl of Gibraltar.
- The couple with their hands around each other's waists, barely moving forward at all, blocking an entire narrow hallway.
And this much is just true: people that walk wicked super slow... make a habit of walking wicked super slow.
Because I KNOW that they just KNOW how much it hurts my soul.
Anyway, I was stuck behind a SWDEC ("slow walker doing extra crap"-- pronounced "swid-eck") going up the stairs at the Davis T-stop tonight, and I decided I should document my inner dialogue in the hopes of overcoming this mind-debilitating annoyance.
It starts mildly:
"Hmm, I wish you would walk."
Then:
"Uh, M'am, can you walk?"
"Walking."
"Ihateyou."
And then I start pawing anxiously at my ponytail:
"Um, yea, I actually really need you to walk."
"Hate."
...
...
...
"Hate."
...
"My mother hates you."
"Your mother hates you."
...
"Hate."
"hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-seething-monkey-asshole-hate."
Yea, it always ends badly.
Slow walkers.
No, actually: slow walkers doing extraneous tasks while not moving out of the way of the clear-and-present stream of traffic.
Need some examples? Well, sure. Here:
- The girl rummaging through her purse on the left ("it's here that we walk") side of the escalator, seemingly in search of the Magic Pearl of Gibraltar.
- The couple with their hands around each other's waists, barely moving forward at all, blocking an entire narrow hallway.
And this much is just true: people that walk wicked super slow... make a habit of walking wicked super slow.
Because I KNOW that they just KNOW how much it hurts my soul.
Anyway, I was stuck behind a SWDEC ("slow walker doing extra crap"-- pronounced "swid-eck") going up the stairs at the Davis T-stop tonight, and I decided I should document my inner dialogue in the hopes of overcoming this mind-debilitating annoyance.
It starts mildly:
"Hmm, I wish you would walk."
Then:
"Uh, M'am, can you walk?"
"Walking."
"Ihateyou."
And then I start pawing anxiously at my ponytail:
"Um, yea, I actually really need you to walk."
"Hate."
...
...
...
"Hate."
...
"My mother hates you."
"Your mother hates you."
...
"Hate."
"hate-hate-hate-hate-hate-seething-monkey-asshole-hate."
Yea, it always ends badly.
Labels: pretty things like tulips
posted by jayniek at 9:12 PM
6 Comments:
apparently, this is a thematic on my blogroll as of late.
Congratulations, you are now the number one google hit for the lucrative keyword combo "sucky walkers".
I think it should be acceptable -- encouraged, even -- for us to carry cattle prods to use on the slow walkers. Or the slow-walking, five-abreast family at the mall. Or the people who stop at the bottom or top of an escalator, because, you know, no one behind you wants to get off or anything, assholes.
i would have thrown them down the other side of the escalator. yes, there would be carnage. and blood. oh the blood.
You need to make a category just for your walker stories...
As one who is forced to sprint up the stairs at North Station on a nightly basis because of the slow walkers, I thank you for your story and your attempt to "talk it out." I laughed my ass off.
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