I wish they’d just go ahead and replace all the doors in public places with revolving doors. Regular doors pose a dilemma of political correctness.

I was walking home the other day and I struggled to maneuver my way past some lady who was walking obnoxiously slowly on a narrow sidewalk. There was a pile of trash on the curb so it would have been very awkward to step down into the street to get past her. Doing so would have required me to either squeeze in between two parked cars or climb over the mountain of garbage. Since the cars were all parked pretty damned close together, either choice would have made me look like an idiot. Had I elected to step down into the street to get past her, I actually would have had to turn around and walk back in the direction I had come for a few dozen feet to get around the heap of garbage to actually reach some cars that I could squeeze through. That would have made it obvious I was going to some considerable length to get around her, which she may have been offended by. If not offended, then bothered at least by having it brought to her attention that she was walking so slowly that I had to inconvenience myself in such a way to get around her.

So instead I decided to veer inwards as I walked down the sidewalk, positioning myself closer to the building than to the street. This seemed to me the better way to maneuver past her since it would be a bit more discrete than climbing over or walking around the garbage heap to get past her. Furthermore, being the more discrete method, my actions would be less likely to cause her to feel uncomfortable about her slowness, since my discretion would make it appear that I was only mildly inconvenienced by her, whereas climbing over a mountain of trash might make her feel guilty about her poor walking skills.

My plan was to veer sharply to the left towards the building on that side of the sidewalk and make my move to get past her by skirting into the slight alcove where the door to the building was located and then discretely dashing outwards in front of her just in time to make it across the street. This seemed the perfect plan because it was the strategy least likely to cause her to feel self-conscious about her slowness since the way I planned to do it would probably not have made obvious the degree to which she was inconveniencing the people walking down the street behind her. However, in the unlikely event that she did notice and felt insulted or something, I could dash off across the street and she, lacking my renowned swiftness, wouldn’t have been able to make it across in time to catch up to me. If she had wanted to pursue me and scold me, she would have had to wait for the next light, since there was no way she would have made it across the street in time to cross right after me at the pace she was moving. Of course, by the time the next light would have come around, I would have been long gone.

Unfortunately for me, my plan completely backfired. Just as I was about to put my plan into action, she sharply veered left into the alcove where the door was. I thought to myself, “Oh shit! She must live in this building!” and I realised I would have to do some fancy footwork to make it look like I hadn’t been planning to enter the same alcove. I was already in motion towards the alcove though so I nearly tripped over myself. I regained my balance and saw that this slow person was actually not making a move to enter the building nor was she moving towards the intercom panel to be let into the building by someone else. She was just standing there! In the split-second I had to make my decision, I came to understand that the best option left to me was to try to dash as deeply into the alcove as possible, proceed in a curving motion around her, and then exit the alcove, emerging from it ahead of her, closer to the crosswalk that would serve as my escape route. This was a risky move, but I was by now too close to the alcove on the left side of the sidewalk for it to be possible for me to readjust my orientation towards the right side, where the garbage was, while still maintaining some level of delicacy. I had no choice.

Things didn’t turn out quite as gracefully as I had hoped. I barely made it past her, my left shoulder was right up against the wall of the building as I was making my escape. My concern was that by inadvertently ending up in a situation where I had to come into such close proximity to her, I might be mistaken for a pickpocket. Fortunately, I did, in fact, make the light and she did not.

I made it home in one piece and entered through the door in the back of the building. I entered the apartment and saw that it was past the time that the mail usually arrives, so I immediately turned around and exited the apartment again to go upstairs by the front door (remember, I live underground) to check my mailbox. To my chagrin and horror, as soon as I opened the door to the mailbox area I encountered the slow woman who had caused me such severe mental anguish only moments before.

At this point, even I, Señor Suave, felt a bit uneasy. My hope was that she wouldn’t recognise me. If she did recognise me, I knew that there was nothing I could say other than, “Sorry for my erratic walking. I was in a hurry”. Of course, the excuse “I was in a hurry” wouldn’t work in that situation since I obviously lived in the building (my mailbox key was completely visible in my hand at the time). Of course, if I lived in the building, then that would have meant that I was merely heading home when I rushed past her, so I couldn’t really have been in a hurry, could I? It felt like time had slowed to a crawl. I decided that it was best not to say anything at all. Not even a neighbourly “Hi”. After all, I had had no idea that this person even lived in my building, so why should I greet her? Unfortunately, a rare lapse occurred in my otherwise perfect foresight: after opening my mailbox and retrieving my mail, I tried to hold the door for her on my way out of the room.

What I didn’t realise was that she didn’t realise that I was holding the door. After holding the door for about four or five seconds, I realised that she was standing still reading her mail at the mailbox, instead of taking it inside and reading it in her apartment like a sane person. Her slow walking should have tipped me off that she wasn’t a normal person. Anyway, after about seven or eight seconds, I turned around and started down the stairs to my underground headquarters/apartment. Tragically, however, it was at the exact instant that I gave up on holding the door for her that she finally decided to turn around and try to walk through it! The door had swung more than halfway closed when she reached it to try to get through. It’s a heavy metal door so it closes completely in not much more than a second or two. As soon as I realised that she was making a move for the door, I tried to reach back and stop it from closing. I was too far away by this point, however, already one or two steps down the staircase to the basement in which I live. I said something like, “Oh, sorry” to which she replied, “Thanks”. I still don’t know if she recognised me or not.

So here I was trying to regain some of the reputation that I had lost as a result of my failure at walking maneuvers and for all my chivalrous effort I’m surely perceived as even more of a jackass now than I would be if I hadn’t tried to hold the door for her at all.

I fucking hate doors and door holding. If I was some dainty princess character or even a little old lady, I’d make a point out of telling people not to hold the fucking door for me.

Also, what if a man holds the door for a woman who happens to be some kind of feminist? I’m always concerned that when I hold the door for someone the person will reveal themselves to be a vocal and highly aggressive feminist and accuse me in public of being a misogynist or chauvinist or something. You can call me those names for lots of legitimate reasons if you want, but the fact that I occasionally hold the door for people (both men and women, by the way) is not one of the reasons why I think you should do so.

Revolving doors, moreover, all have a safety feature for emergencies where if you apply pressure to them in a certain way they fold up and you can dash out in case of a fire without having to break the glass. I learned that on the History Channel so it must be true.

People need to learn how to walk in public places. In particular, people need to learn how to walk in the subway. I don’t know about you, but when I’m in the subway, I’m in a fucking hurry. Always. I am always in a fucking hurry. That’s the assumption the public needs to make at all times.

When I’m in the subway, I don’t have time to waste. Or, in other, words, I don’t want to have to concern myself with anything other than getting from the station entrance to the platform as quickly as possible. When you’re too incompetent to walk properly, I don’t want you in my way. Get out of my fucking way.

You should all assume that everybody is on his or her way to meet his or her dying spouse in a hospital bed to hear his or her last words while simultaneously attending his or her son or daughter’s wedding, birth of his or her first child, grandmother’s 100th birthday, college graduation ceremony, eating his or her last meal before being executed, attending junior prom with someone’s attractive 12th grade sister, being awarded the Haffenreffer Award for Excellence in Trigonometry and picking up a +9 SOSun glaive dropped by someone who got PKed while he or she was under murderer status.

If you can still walk so damned slowly in the subway, preventing me from catching my train, while thinking of all that, then you’re more of an asshat than I thought possible and should be banned from public transit.

The 63rd Street and Lexington Avenue F train station is an irritating station. Stepping out of a Queens-bound F train at this station, if one walks at an average pace and does not walk up any of the four escalators, it should take an average person five minutes before reaching the Overworld, where he or she can use a Tent and save his or her progress.

An escalator is wide enough for two King Henry VIIIs to walk abreast of each other. Anyone fatter than King Henry ought to take the stairs, which are significantly wider than escalators and, for this reason, more accommodating to such an individual’s generous carriage.

It is common knowledge that those of us who wish to accelerate our ascent stay to the left of the escalator and walk upwards, while those who wish to spend the full five minutes stand on the right side of the escalator. Walking up an escalator is efficient because it:

a) Allows the rider to ascend in about half the time of the stairs

b) Expends the least energy. One can walk up the stairs at a pace of Pace A and reach the surfaceworld in time of Time A, which is less than if one walked at Pace A up the stairs. To reach the surfaceworld in Time A while walking up the stairs, one would have to walk at a pace greater than Pace A. Such a pace expends more energy than walking up the escalator at Pace A and is thus, of lesser efficiency than walking up the escalator

Returning to the original premise of me being in a real fucking hurry, it is rational for me, in an economic sense, to walk up the escalator. However, people don’t know how to walk in public places. Tourists, in particular. Tourists are always standing stock-still like morons on the left side of the escalator as though they’re just trying their damnedest to become strangulation victims.

It’s really not difficult at all. When walking up the escalator, it’s the rule to keep left. When riding up the escalator, it’s the rule to keep right.

We’re living in a society. That word should carry some weight. It should make people think twice before zig-zagging, stopping, starting, turning, stooping, spinning, prancing, skipping, jumping or falling over in public places.

Unfortunately, surfaceworld stumble-bums are even more relentless than the subterranean variety in their propensity to get in my very regal way.

The rules of escalators and staircases extend to the sidewalk. If I’m walking north, I stick to the right side of the street. Those who are headed southbound walk southwards. They are on my left as I walk northwards. No, this is not confusing. If I’m walking south, I, once more, stay to my right. This is the same side of the street that would have been on my left side as I walked northwards. There cannot possibly be any conflict if everybody follows the simple rule of

If everybody keeps to his or her right, that eliminates one problem. However, that doesn’t address all of my ambulatory grievances. Even if everybody keeps to his or her right, there’s still the issue of those who walk at an uncivilly sluggish pace or in an erratic manner.

The worst transgression a human being can make is to stop short in a crowded area when people are lined up behind the person in question in single file. When dancing in a conga line, the last thing anyone would dare do would be to stop. If some moron in the centre of the conga line stops to answer his or her mobile telephone, what happens? Everybody behind him bumps into the person one place ahead of them in line, causing whiplash or cracked teeth in the process.

So it doesn’t take a genius to see that stopping in the middle of one of the impromptu conga lines that invariably form when walking down a crowded street is a bad idea. This brings me again to how much I hate tourists. Tourists are always stopping to adjust their visors, which nobody wears unless they are a tourist. In fact, I’m sure that when those tourists go back home, they don’t even wear those visors anymore. It’s a garment only worn while afflicted with the tourist status condition. Once the status condition is cleansed, the player character is automatically disarmed of his or her visor.

In any case, tourists are always stopping in their tracks to adjust their visors, which brings me to my next point: tourists are less intelligent than us normals. Only a moron is incapable of walking and adjusting a visor simultaneously. Ergo, tourists are morons.

I realise, of course, that tourists are like locusts. They’re not particularly fun to have around, but they benefit the local environment in one way or another. They eat weevils or something. I don’t know much about locusts. Tourists, however, patronize our visor shops. Without tourists, visor dealers would be out of a job. So would the garment workers in Bangladesh who manufacture those visors. Tourists are also the only demographic I know of who actually purchase miniature statues of liberty or taxi cab Christmas ornaments.

So when these people stop in a crosswalk to adjust their visors and shorts with twenty people in single file behind them, there is a serious risk of getting hit by a truck. Of course, I would be happy if the tourist got hit by a truck, but with twenty non-tourists behind the tourist, chances are only one in twenty-one that the tourist himself will get hit. I value the lives of non-tourists almost as much as I value my expensive ergonomic mouse; I certainly don’t want to see either non-tourists or my mouse injured.

Therefore, I propose a minimum speed requirement for those who seek permission to walk on public streets. Those who do not meet the speed threshold are barred from public streets and transit. They can ride kangaroos or something until they learn how to walk at a pace that’s not gonna get them murdered by someone.

I was walking down Lexington Avenue today and I was in a hurry. I nearly tripped and broke my face when the guy walking in front of me stopped short. I was about to give him a fistful of righteous justice when I realised that he had only stopped short because the guy in front of him had done so as well. I gazed forward to see what the obstacle down the line was that had caused the queue to malfunction so grievously was and saw that it was two women, both of whom had the appearance of a cross between Gwen Stefani and Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovett. The two of them were lazily idling in the middle of the sidewalk, each with one hand on her hip, both of them making it quite obvious they couldn’t be enjoying their cigarettes more even if they were the last two cigarettes on the planet.

Where do people like this find the hubris to justify their actions!!!???