Today, I was on a set of descending escalators in a shopping centre. I heard the thundering of running footsteps behind me, and was very suddenly crashed into by some guy with a load of bags, who, apparently lacking any sense of personal space, decided not to back off and instead to stand literally pressed up against me. I turned to give him an icy stare whilst standing my ground, muscles coiled up like snakes about to strike if he turned out to be the sort of guy to try any funny stuff.
He didn't notice my glare though, because it turned out he wasn't paying attention to me at all- he was gazing back up the escalators. Suddenly he spun around (nearly knocking me over all over again), and darted up the escalator. I watched in an almost hypnotised state of amazement as he dashed upwards against the downwards movement of the staircase, at first only matching the speed and seemingly running in one spot, and then gradually succeeding at picking up speed. I had reached the ground by now, but I couldn't stop watching.
Just as he was almost at the top, tiring out fast and beginning to slow down again, he made one last almighty leap to the finish line- only to trip heavily, bags flying and limbs flailing, and he finished his race to the top by scrambling on all fours.
(I turned away very quickly to hide my laughter).
~Fin~
Well, he was obviously up to no good and deserved your icy stare. I would have asked the fellow why he was behaving like a thief and a blackguard.
ReplyDeleteImagine how un-British that would be of me, Mr Bananas, to vocally engage with another member of the general public! For me to even attempt to make eye-contact is borderline taboo!
DeleteMaybe it's because of this ritual lack of social interaction that in London-town it can be difficult to tell if someone is mad, bad or just a little bit potty- but it's usually a safe bet that it's always at very least the third.