Photo: Rob Stinnett, flickr
Sometimes I miss having a car, but then something inevitably happens to remind me that things are no better whether you’re a pedestrian or a motorist.
For example, just today I was travelling along the transit platform on my way into the shopping mall, when a woman passed me at high speed, then slowed down to a dead halt right in front of me. I was immediately struck by the urge to lean on my horn, roll down my window and yell obscenities while extending a raised finger at her rear-view mirror. But it was then that I remembered that I wasn’t in a car, and neither was she.
It was a sick, vulnerable feeling, like nakedness, and suddenly my urge to curse and gesture had recoiled deep within my body. My testicles followed suit. My voice was gone. Everything seemed to have frozen…except for my feet. Yes, my feet were definitely quite perturbed by the affair. Pissed as they were, they immediately whizzed off.
My head was thrown back by their mighty acceleration as I found my body hurtling around her side, then coming to a full stop in front of my would-be challenger. Nothing was said, but I got the distinct impression that my unexpected defiance had angered her. The back of my neck tingled with the sensation of fervent, steaming breath, like what you’d imagine it would be like standing in front of a horse after an unexpected visit from a Mountie. You know, the mounted kind that actually live up to their namesake.
My horse-breath-tickled ear soon heard the distinct “whoosh” of hooves—to be fair, Nine West pumps—as I was again passed and blocked by a menacing rump. Then, all heck came unglued.
Neck-and-neck we hurtled along the platform, shoulders colliding like sad, pointed sticks in a childhood swordfight. I could feel her piercing gaze yearning to meet mine, but I dared not look. Instead, my eyes were fixed on the Transit Officer who greeted our impending approach with curious interest. She must have seen too, because at the last moment our bodies spontaneously peeled apart, with my trajectory altering toward a Sport Chek, while she dove headlong into Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
Quite satisfied by their unexpectedly brilliant performance, I treated my feet to the most stylish sneakers I could find. They were delighted.
Just thought you might like to know.
Carl S. Digby