Dear the bastard backpack wearing fraternity of the world.
I’m sure some of you are very nice people who enjoy tickling kittens under their chin, love unicorns, and liking everyone of your Facebook friend’s posts, but some of you are absolute bastards. Seriously.
When I refer to “bastard backpacks”, I’m not talking about the noble types who trudge around Kathmandu et al taking-an-undisclosed-period-of-time-off-to-travel-the-world type of backpacker, or kid-wrangling parents on a trip to the zoo lugging little Trevor’s favourite toys and his organic quinoa treats, or school kids struggling with their textbooks. That is if kids still have textbooks.
I remember having to wield the “Web of Life” biology textbook in my schoolbag – heavy as an absolute mofo.
But I digress, I’m taking aim at the commuting corporate warriors — I’m sure you know the type — the women, but mainly men (who most likely work in the financial industry) who infect trains, buses, ferries and planes with their massive cancerous growths on their backs, not giving
a tinker’s cuss for you and me, as they take out innocent and unsuspecting citizens with every entitled swivel of their shoulders.
A question for you bastard backpack expletives, so when you put your backpacks on, does your spatial awareness suddenly evaporate along with what was remaining of your fashion sense?
Don’t you realise that when you have your laptop and other geeky apparatus strapped to your back like a dork baby koala, you may, just may, be slightly inconveniencing the rest of the world? No? Didn’t think so.
A friend of mine was catching a bus the other day and had a bloke resting his backpack on his head. As one does. As my friend said, “Words were exchanged”.
A friendly suggestion – take the f*cking thing off before you get on the train / bus / ferries / plane. There. That wasn’t hard was it? It’s called “consideration”.
The next one of your kind who almost dislocates my shoulder as you bump your way down the aisle of a plane with your backpack because you’re too much of a tightarse to check in your luggage… (but that’s for another serve of randomswill).
Words ©Steve Williams 2018