A
Anonymous
Guest
Some people think it is dangerous to talk on a cell phone while driving. I think some people shouldn’t walk and talk on the phone...
During the summer of 2003, on a beautiful sunny workday lunch hour, I was feeding the wild ducks from a wharf overlooking Lake Ontario, when a powerfully-built, bald-headed, broad-shouldered, angry-looking, 6’ 3” man in a sharkskin business suit came charging and pointing his index finger at me menacingly, saying: “Let me tell you about the five thousand dollars, fella!”
I don’t know why but I immediately assumed I had been wrongly targeted by a Mafia hit-man for some unpaid debt. I backed off to the point of teetering on the brink of the wharf, five foot from the water level, dropped my bread in the lake and generally scared the ducks and geese that flew away in a panic. This being Canada, I saw on the faces of onlookers that many of them were willing to come to my rescue. Then the jerk – who was actually looking right through me and not at me while talking to somebody else on a nearly-invisible hands-free cell phone apparatus – veered away and continued his financial conversation without ever apparently having seen me at all. Having barely recovered my breath, I didn’t think of pursuing him to make him realize that he had nearly thrown me off the wharf.
I blame this incident on the hypnotic hold cell phones have on their users, a hold capable of transforming anyone into a babbling, irresponsible and potentially homicidal moron.
During the summer of 2003, on a beautiful sunny workday lunch hour, I was feeding the wild ducks from a wharf overlooking Lake Ontario, when a powerfully-built, bald-headed, broad-shouldered, angry-looking, 6’ 3” man in a sharkskin business suit came charging and pointing his index finger at me menacingly, saying: “Let me tell you about the five thousand dollars, fella!”
I don’t know why but I immediately assumed I had been wrongly targeted by a Mafia hit-man for some unpaid debt. I backed off to the point of teetering on the brink of the wharf, five foot from the water level, dropped my bread in the lake and generally scared the ducks and geese that flew away in a panic. This being Canada, I saw on the faces of onlookers that many of them were willing to come to my rescue. Then the jerk – who was actually looking right through me and not at me while talking to somebody else on a nearly-invisible hands-free cell phone apparatus – veered away and continued his financial conversation without ever apparently having seen me at all. Having barely recovered my breath, I didn’t think of pursuing him to make him realize that he had nearly thrown me off the wharf.
I blame this incident on the hypnotic hold cell phones have on their users, a hold capable of transforming anyone into a babbling, irresponsible and potentially homicidal moron.