Whether you call them sneakers or "trainers," evil, thy name is athletic shoe. The frustration I felt this time last year in Paris has only doubled since arriving in London. I've got exams, it's warm and sticky, and urban, and on top of it all, I am barraged with fat tourists who crowd the sidewalks. Specifically, my compatriotes. Now, the genuine warmhearted, overexcited American tourist abroad isn't really *that* bad. There's something nice about hearing, "Oh Harry, look, dah-ble deckah busses!"
But ultimately, it's the attire that makes me feel homicidal. The white sneakers, the ski jacket donned for an April rainstorm, the ubiquitous grey fleece whose brand-we-shall-not-name. There are no mountains in London. Why are you wearing a ski jacket? Judging from your pudge, you haven't gone running in years. Why are you wearing sneakers?
The only remedy, as I see it, is to enforce mandatory predation upon sportily dressed tourists. You came here dressed for sport, you asked for it. It shall be named, 'Her Majesty's Sartorial Reform Initiative," known in common parlance as 'Dance, fat boy, dance!" While I would never advocate increased gun ownership, resident Londoners will henceforth be equipped with large, impressive looking toy guns and have the right to bear them while kamikaze-screaming and running toward unsuspecting, sportily dressed tourists. Oh, you'll run alright, fat man, you'll run.
United in action for a prettier kingdom, in the service of her majesty the queen.
Thank you.
1 comment:
lol.....that was hilarious...parisis beginning to fill up with fat tourists too...it sucks!
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