Sidewalk Rage

Don’t fret ya’lls. The snarkster is back.
(Though I must say I did enjoy a brief, blissful stint in the clouds the other night after seeing Bright Star again. Seriously, you need to see it. It will forever change your opinion on just how passionate the touching of a wrist can be.)

As badly as I wish it was, unfortunately this isn’t England circa 1818. This is crazy 21st century New York Citay. And though we still have to deal with the occasional pile-o-poop, the sidewalks here are a tad more crowded. Around 8 million times more so.

And navigating them, unfortunately, is no simple feat. In fact, it’s quite irritating. Infuriating. Exasperating. Aggravating. A simple walk on a lovely day can be positively ruined by a slow-moving person. Ruined. I kid you not.

Trying to steer your way through a New York sidewalk is like trying to find your way through a maze. Blindfolded. Behind a pack of abnormally large, mutant snails.

Oh yes. Walking around the Village, especially, (or anywhere in Midtown) will drastically diminish your faith in the brainpower of a Homo sapien. In their ability to understand, to comprehend. To grasp the simple unspoken rules of NYC pedestrianism.

Why don’t people get it?

There’s nothing like being stuck behind a group of slow-moving folks. It makes me want to scream and push and punch someone.

True, these offensive people probably don’t live here. Chances are, they don’t know that we New Yorkers have tacit speed limits for walking. (Especially during peak hours.)

But, that being said, what is so difficult about keeping to the right? Huh? HUH? Do you drive on the left side of the road? No. Do you walk down the left side of a staircase? No.

The left side is the passing side, people. Not the lollygagging side.

Being stuck behind a gaggle of people is probably the worst thing ever. And I mean stuck. Cars lining one side (and you know how NYC cars park - with mere inches, centimeters, to spare), buildings lining the other. No where to go stuck.

It could be three or four or more people blocking your path. It could be. But all it takes is two to trap you.

And if it’s not cars on the other side, then it’s garbage bags. Or couches. Or recyclables. Bam, you’re trapped.

My eyes dart around, I become an assassin planning an escape route. How the hell am I going to get around these stupid, snail-paced peeps?????

If there’s no escape route, I start breathing very loudly. Sigh obnoxiously - I am passive aggressive, obvi. I start fencing in my mind, trying to get by, find a way through the human-traffic-wall. Feint, parry. Feint, parry (coolest last name ever).

Then finally, when I burst beyond the slackers, I double up my gait. I try to show them how we New Yorkers roll - and yeah, it’s quickly.