Walk Slower, No Please, Walk Slower, I Have Nowhere to Go and I Don’t Matter, Take My Wallet Too
By Willa Norvell | Photo by Tejas Rama
Hate is a strong word. It should not be used lightly, thrown around like a goose feather pillow and then swiftly weaponized to smother an undeserving individual. Very few actions warrant such a harsh description of loathing. Fascism and unforgivable crime make the hatred list. Not much else. It’s best to opt for less dramatic, more factual terms in moments of upset, such as “dislike” or “oppose”.
That being said, I HATE slow walkers.
If I dangled a carrot at the end of a string, would you push your relaxed rabbit pace to a horse hustling canter? If I offered my kidney free of charge, would you decide not to stop in the middle of the doorway? If I promised my first born child and to cover your future mortgage, would you choose a side of the sidewalk?
I truly don’t think you would. Of course not, why should I expect you to put down your Clash of Clans round so I can make the T to my job? Stupid me, always thinking about myself. Every time I stand behind one of these people and see bent elbows, I just know there’s no chance for me. With their greasy figures click-clacking against that cracked screen, my hopes are dashed. I would truly rather be run over by a scooter and dragged by the ankles to the hospital because at least then I’d get somewhere.
As Miranda Priestly once said, “By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me.” Funny you say that Miranda, because the iceberg that hit the Titanic actually made its move quicker in freezing water than my peers ever have. It must be Halloween everyday cause when I stumble through the CAS Hallway, every single person seems to be cosplaying as Flash from Zootopia.
I wish I could offer a resolution to this epidemic. Dr. Fauci got close but all of his findings were destroyed because it contradicted the promise of government documents moving efficiently. All I can say is that you have to take this issue as personally as possible. So you hate me too? This is my penance? Understood. I will pay the price for the sin I am about to commit, which is pushing you out of my way and into a wall. Ugh I wish.
Last night I had a dream. As it usually happens, my walking rhythm slowed to a near stop, but this time I did not succumb to typical self pity. Like a bull in the alleys of Spain, I revved my right leg, itching to explode at a startling speed. My veins surged with the strength of a thousand kangaroos, and in a swift motion, I kickboxed and drop kicked every individual in my vicinity moving at less than a mile per hour. I woke up refreshed, renewed, and saddened that it was an illusion.
If only… if only my hate could yield such a beautiful fate.