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Well.. apparently my little talky-talkys aren't funny enough anymore. Then, I shall try anew... Being a shrewd observer of human nature and spectactular multi-tasker, I find great comfort in seeing people struggle with seemingly simple tasks. It also helps that I'm evil, but I digress... In middle school, my best friend was saddled with a rough affliction, and until last night, I thought he was alone in this world. I was wrong. This weekend, I attended the Hamtramck Blowout, a music festival of local bands. It rocked. However, the bands were spread out over more than a dozen venues, some more than a mile from each other. The weekend required a lot of walking. While traveling from one site to another, the air was filled with animated conversation between myself, Ron and Liz. (Amber was at a memorial service, and did not attend. I asked to go because I am such an awesome guy, but was rebuffed.) Ron and Liz have been going out since the dawn of time, so I would walk to one side of them. I have always been very conscious of personal space and relative speeds and positioning when I walk. You know how there are people who walk next to you that are oblivious to upcoming objects? Like when there is a fire hydrant up ahead and you notice that you and your group will get to it at the same time that the approaching group will? I notice these things well in advance of everyone else and begin planning whether I should slow down and fall behind the group to narrow our width, avoiding the otherwise inevitable port side collision with the oncoming drunks/fire hydrant, or if I should speed up and look like a complete dork by speed-walking - but save myself from the imminent collison of two equally oblivious chatter-groups. I'm always thinking. Well, for some reason I ended up between them. I felt immediately uncomfortable as an interloper in their world, but realized I couldn't back out. As weird as I felt, it would have been even more awkward to slow down and make a flanking movement to either side - as it would have drawn attention to the fact that I took up a poor walking position in the first place. Being the manly man I am, I marched on. That is, until I noticed my buffer zone was disappearing! Now, not only was I in the wrong position, but the error was growing worse by the second! This is where Todd, my friend from middle school comes in. You see, he was an angle walker. Walking side-by-side, there is always the tough balance of facing your side companion while talking and looking in front of you to re-orient yourself and prevent embarrassing tripping or stepping-in-dog-turd action. So, you have to alternate. You talk a little, then turn to look. Unfortunately, this skill is not taught in school, where they instead focus on things like diagramming sentences and other useless crap. (Aside: Why isn't this stuff taught? Like -- How do I do laundry? Do I shave with or against the grain? Why do people who proclaim themselves as followers of Jesus turn out to be those most intolerant and lacking in compassion for the less fortunate - when THAT WAS HIS BASIC FUCKING POINT!? At exactly what point does "Oops, my pants fell down!" turn into public indecency?) Anyway... Todd could not handle both actions simultaneously. So, he angle-walked. Whenever he turned to face you, he feet turned ever-so-slightly to your side, and as walked forward, he also drew closer. You had to keep backing away until you were walking in the roadside gutter, wallowing in its crapulence. He forced you off the sidewalk every time he tried to talk with his angle-walking, like a linebacker trying to cut off a receiver at the sideline. And even worse, he was completely oblivious to it. Fortunately, I seriously lacked social graces at that time, so when he began closing in, I would shove him back away from me and scream, "Walk straight, you idiot!" ( I wasn't good at snappy insults then.) Bringing my expert training to focus, I pointed out that Ron was angle-walking. He had been unaware, but after I pointed it out he was able to correct it and we resumed walking about Hamtramck. Once again, Chris makes the world a better place. You're welcome, world. You're welcome.