Monday, 25 February 2008

Straight

One event which constantly blights my life is the unnatural discipline of utter strangers to hurl themselves into my path as I innocently walk from place to place. I am always ALWAYS having people get in my way - even on deserted country lanes, abandoned fell routes and empty Stately Homes at midnight. It must be me. It has to be me. It occurs too frequently to be a coincidence. Every time I foolishly leave my house, I'm tripped, blockaded and hindered by fellow pedestrians who are inevitably drawn into whatever route I have chosen to take.

This morning, a Monday even, I'd just left my garden gate when I saw a woman approaching, bearing the haphazard gait of someone born to get in my way. She wasn't on crack or attempting to perform a complicated series of tasks while approaching me, but I could tell by her random manoeuvres she would be definitely hurling herself into my path before I could say 'Dr Dre'.

But it was a ruse. I quickly crossed the road to avoid this woman and her randomness only to be assaulted by another man, previously unseen, who was taken aback by the speed with which I hopped onto the pavement and immediately became confused. He not only got in my way, but proceeded to commence the 'I’ll go this way, oh dear you've gone the same way, so I’ll go the other way, oh dear you're doing that too' shuffle, while carrying a briefcase and the air of a man about to stab me. The worst of all possible conclusions. This was within the first 30 seconds of my week. The first 30 seconds. I'd been obstructed viciously on two separate occasions before I'd reached the end of the street. We danced our little dance, he harrumphed and I left the scene knowing this would be the worst day of my life.

I think it has to do with height. Being a short man, I'm seen as an easy, possibly even invisible, obstacle between my aggressor and their destination. Add me to a queue, and I am always the 'passing point' through the queue. Those before and behind me remain untouched, while I am shunted aside by those attempting to get through the line of people.

I don't really know what to do about this. I either need to start wearing something extremely spiky or cake myself in excrement. So it’s a goth or a nutter then. Those are my two options to avoid confrontation and stay sane. You see my predicament.

2 comments:

wreck said...

I feel your pain in hot striped passing through my gut. It sounds like you need to take off the clown shoes and start making time for the streets dem. Dr Dre.

wreck said...

When I said 'striped' I meant to say 'stripes'. Clockwise is really just chatter.