Monday, May 07, 2007
Two fatties and a drunk
Cycling through Glostrup, like I would rather not, a drunk bounced off me. What is it with that 1km stretch in Glostrup: interminable roadworks, sudden appearance of spoke breaking holes in the road, moving patches of broken glass, and now drunks... Why me? Maybe said drunk thought I looked like a large solid thing to lean up against.
But not as large as the next cycle-path hazard: two fatties stood in the way. Now if they were side by side I could of squeezed through, but one was slightly behind the other, thereby blocking the whole path. It looked like they were attempting to cross the road, a dual-carriage way, at rush-hour, and not something I would attempt at that point. So I slows down to give them chance to go, and slows down, and slower, and slower, until I stop about a meter away.
"Excuse me," I ask in my usual cheery way.
"It's not a race track you know!" comes a rather sharp reply.
"Oh, I see," I answer with surprise, "but it is a cycle-path," I add, as I push up onto the pavement to go around.
At a set of traffic lights a little further on I stop and the sound of a bicycle bell causes me to look back. There they are, still stood there, and watch as another cyclist rides up onto the pavement to get around them with lots of unintelligible shouting.
For the life of me I don't know what that was all about.
But not as large as the next cycle-path hazard: two fatties stood in the way. Now if they were side by side I could of squeezed through, but one was slightly behind the other, thereby blocking the whole path. It looked like they were attempting to cross the road, a dual-carriage way, at rush-hour, and not something I would attempt at that point. So I slows down to give them chance to go, and slows down, and slower, and slower, until I stop about a meter away.
"Excuse me," I ask in my usual cheery way.
"It's not a race track you know!" comes a rather sharp reply.
"Oh, I see," I answer with surprise, "but it is a cycle-path," I add, as I push up onto the pavement to go around.
At a set of traffic lights a little further on I stop and the sound of a bicycle bell causes me to look back. There they are, still stood there, and watch as another cyclist rides up onto the pavement to get around them with lots of unintelligible shouting.
For the life of me I don't know what that was all about.
# posted by threaded @ 5/07/2007 08:18:00 pm 
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