Manners, They Are Your Friend; Sunday Walkers

You all know the people I'm talking about, right? We all hate them - unless we're part of the unique group of humans known henceforth as Sunday Walkers. They're the ones that generally outnumber you and are often responsible for making your shopping trip last way longer than it should.

I walk pretty fast normally and I often find myself having to slow down for a companion. I'm not usually in a hurry to get anywhere in particular, I just walk fast. It's not such a bad thing, generally, unless there's a shopping complex involved. When you're stuck in the middle of a plaza full of teens on a Thursday night and the only thing you want to do is get in, get what you came for and get out as quick as humanly possible, it's hard to be tolerable of the nobs that dawdle.

Now, I'm not talking about the elderly, the injured, the disabled or heavily pregnant woman. They all have good reasons to be going slow and that's fine by me. But I'm talking about the people who wander aimlessly, making it hard to go around them and even harder to keep the last shred of sanity you possess.

Last night was a prime example; Out of conditioner and desperate to avoid having to go shopping on the weekend, I ducked into a shopping centre and was promptly stopped from my quest. First it was three schoolgirls nattering incessantly about such and such doing whatever. Of course, with them walking three abreast, there was nowhere for me to go. Once they'd finally been distracted by something shiney and veered off, I thought my troubles were over. Of course not; I was than forced behind two people dawdling, somehow taking up most of the walkway. One of them wore a shirt with 'Speed racer' plastered across the back.

Oh, the irony.

I don't know if I'm just unlucky of if we're surrounded by Sunday Walkers, but I seem to be stuck behind them on an alarmingly frequent bases. Shopping is bad enough at the best of times, with inflation and nobs in equal measures, but having the trip lengthened by Sunday Walkers just makes it that little bit more traumatic.

I've often wondered what makes them tick, personally. What prompts a completely able-bodied human being have the urge to walk at the pace of a dead snail? How do they not know how soul-crushingly annoying they are? How is it possible that a man on crutches moves faster than some of them? I got nothing.

It's not just a matter of slow walkers, though.

The other side of the coin is just as bad; Sunday Stoppers.

Picture it; You've got one item to buy. You enter, convinced that you're going to get stuck behind one of those walkers. Because it's just your luck.

But then... no... wait... Bingo!

You spot someone that seems to be of a similar mind to you, keeping their pace fast and consistent. A match made in heaven! Relieved, you fall into step behind them, walking single file. You're far enough away so that the other person doesn't think you're a stalker, but close enough that no one else will be cutting in and stealing your prime walking position. You both walk towards your respective goals and you hope to whatever deity is listening that the person in front of you is going to the same place you are. That would just be fate.

It's all going so well until, out of nowhere, the other person stops. No slowing down, no veering off to the side, out of consideration. Just... stops. You're left to either make a hasty stop too, or you'll end up getting up close and personal with the other persons' back.

Grrr.

There's a lesson in that one; Next time you have to randomly stop - be it for sudden window shopping, something shiney or the realization that you've passed by the store you need - think about the poor nob that could be behind you. That person may be counting on you to keep them away from all of the other nobs and we all need to stick together on that front.

Fighting your way through Sunday Walkers and Stoppers is, perhaps, a large part of the explanation of why I, a woman, am going against my genetic code by hating shopping with a passion.

And don't even get me started on mothers with ridiculously large prams that have more features than my car. That's just not right.