by Ross Sharp
You are on a crowded train. You are standing up, elbow to elbow with your fellow commuter.
The train arrives at your destination and, on the platform, people are waiting to get on.
The doors open, and you move to the door to get off, yet the people waiting to get on just stand there, in front of you, utterly oblivious to the simple fact that you cannot walk “through” them as if you were a ghost.
No. There they stay, rooted to the spot, these brain-dead zombie halfwits, all dead eyes and slack jaws, the inbred mountain men from “Deliverance” as Urban Traveller*.
And, just recently, this having happened many times previously, it happened again, and I did have myself a minor Howard Beale moment …
“WILL YOU GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY, PLEASE!”
And they did. Very quickly.
I applaud myself.
*Maybe it’s just a Brisbane thing.