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."


"Uh, M'am, can you walk?"

And then I start pawing anxiously at my ponytail:

"Um, yea, I actually really need you to walk."
"My mother hates you."
"Your mother hates you."

Yea, it always ends badly.