walk, don’t run

Like negotiating foot traffic on Oxford Street, pulling on tights and poaching an egg: there are some things you should never do in a rush. The consequences will far, far outweigh the shaved seconds.

Take getting around in a standing position, two-legged locomotion. Walking, if you will.  It’s supposed to be slow. We haven’t developed the breathtaking speed of a puma, our the tachnically bombastic leap of a jungle frog. Our spines are evolutionarily way behind our biped-dominated lifestyles and our soft, pink-soled feet easily tire and are partial to peppermint footrubs. We aren’t designed to run constantly, or to move, upright, independently, at running speeds.

And so to  Segways. I loathe them. Not only are they pointless in their just-about-a-jog speeds and their practical applications (tarmac-only, single-person-only, etc etc), they are so horrifically dorky looking that the only attention they attract is bemused amusement. You look like a lazy prick. You may as well have a big penis pretruding from your noggin.

Who will use them (Segways, that is)? Fat people. That demographically – and phsysically – swelling group of bipeds which is most in need of a gentle little trot. Those who have plenty of money and no style. Many Americans.

So, for the sake of a few saved seconds and a standing rest, ignore the two-wheeled upright granny mobiles and put on a pair of comfy shoes. Walk. Enjoy using your amazing, practically perfect, humanoid limbs. Just don’t run.

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