Back in my pre-Boston days, when I was the happy owner of a burgundy 1990 Buick Century (move over, Grandma, I'm driving!), I was known to have an unhealthy amount of road rage. But that road rage seems to have mutated into sidewalk rage as I have become an avid pedestrian in the big city.
Boston can get so cluttered with people on the sidewalks and especially underground in the T stations. And it seems that I always get stuck behind the short and/or old people who walk very, very slowly. I end up getting very frustrated, even if I'm not in a particular hurry. I just hate having to walk slow.
Today, I found myself in such a predicament, a very short woman with a backpack was waddling in front of me and there was no way to get around her because of all the other people standing around.
I should've . . . picked up this very short woman from under her arm pits, whispered "Fly away, little bird!", and tossed her aside like a rag doll into the crowd on either side of us, knocking several people over as I continued on at my normal walking speed, laughing maniacally. Certainly, another short person would have witnessed this, and I would've pointed to them and said "You're next if you don't watch it!" in my best impersonation of Sean Connery.
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