Get Off My Lawn: Get Off My Sidewalk

by |
07/01/2008 1:45 PM |

So there you are, you and your several friends, walking down the sidewalk, seven or eight abreast as if you are the opening credits of Reservoir Dogs. Though I know that this flies in the face of everything you believe, there are people in the world who are not you. Some of them are behind you on the sidewalk, moving at, inevitably, a swifter pace than you and your friends, because they are attentive to your prolonged anecdote about the latest indignity in your personal life (a thought: perhaps you yourself are not entirely blameless in the matter? We so rarely are), and we meanwhile have places to go, people to see, things to do, you see we all have jobs and families and shrapnel in our heinies from fighting the Ko-reans while you were sitting around watching cartoons and sucking applesauce off your toes, and so in order to overtake you we must constantly gauge the amount of open pavement before the next fire hydrant or tree, lest we be forced to swing even wider out into traffic and be run over by one of the many reckless drivers blighting our streets (of course we cannot pass you on the left, because inevitably another oblivious regiment approaches in the other direction).

Please speed up or better yet break ranks, you are blocking my way, I am trying to get past you, on my Segway. Honk honk, thank you, get off my lawn, good night and good luck.