I have a problem. Many people (in New York) have this problem. It is a pedestrian problem, in both senses of the word—I realize that. But since I have a proclivity for well, a certain type of rage-fueled obnoxiousness, I thought I would bang out some of it here.
Walking is my primary mode of locomotion. I do it ALL THE TIME. I am fantastic at it in fact. This could be because I have great legs, but also because as a seasoned New Yorker I am skilled at jumping around people and charging through blockades. A blockade is when 3 or more idiots (I mean non-natives) walk side-by-side blocking the flow of the sidewalk. This causes severe backup, traffic, and makes everyone late. It is a persistent issue on the island, and little has been done to caress it into oblivion.
Breaking a blockade requires a very particular arsenal, which of course I have developed over the years. A noxious "EHHHH!" is superb at dismantling a sidewalk takeover. As these clueless bozos are more oft than not from out of town it is best to keep the conversation to a grunt. In high school I favored a bark. I tested this technique while playing hockey in gym class. I have retired it now, as it seems a little, what's that word? Immature.
There is nothing worse than being accidentally bumped into on the street. I hate it. One time this asshole in the Canal Street station hit me so hard I basically fell over. In my memory, I definitely fell over. Yea, right into this lobster broth infused puddle. I was just a precious dumpling cum riffraff thrown to the ground. I was disoriented, demoralized, MAULED! From my low vantage point I shook a hearty (yet empty) fist at him (his back). It was all I could do in my defense as he paraded off into the subway car...
Yesterday on the 4/5 something UNBELIEVABLE happened to me. I usually like to stand with my back against the door (good for reading and scanning the crowd for freaks) but the car was crowded and so I acquiesced to the role of "hanger on". Meaning I held the pole. Then this woman came OUT OF NOWHERE and hugged the entire pole to her body. My hand was trapped!!! I released a couple ticking noises to signal that this move was fit for a barnacle but not for her. This is the MTA not Best Friends Anonymous, weirdo.
I struggled, I wriggled. My mind was assaulted with images of that guy who cut off his own arm cause it was stuck under a boulder in Colorado or some place. I tried to get a grip on the situation—and then, I tried not to.
Finally at 14th Street, she removed herself. I personally raced her out the door, so at least I could win at something. Of course she didn't know we were racing; her previous action showed she really didn't know much of anything.
These kinds of things are happening all over the city, all the time.
That is why it is best to keep your limbs and appendages to yourself! Remember: the city is a jungle, and if you make contact you could get bed bugs.