Dear Readers,
I apologise for my extended absence from writing, needless to say the urge to humiliate myself (apparently globally- hello South Korea!) has been suppressed, but due to an immense amount of peer pressure, and a plethora of new stories, I've decided to restart my blog.
I'm going to admit it, I hate tourists. The Olympics is going to be hell for me. I'm not saying I'm not grateful for them aiding our failing economy, nor does this indicate innate xenophobia, it's just, they walk SO slowly. They congregate in the most inconvenient of places, in front of the entrance to the tube, at the top of escalators, at the bottom of escalators, usually in places that I can easily fall over them, and believe me that happens.
Yesterday, Covent Garden was particularly rife with tourists. Groups of kids in matching t-shirts wandering around aimlessly, being herded by a lone frustrated looking adult with a clipboard. There must have been about six groups of them, which made my six minute walk to the station over fifteen minutes. Needless to say, I was looking forward for ruthlessly heading towards the first available seat and getting lost in a book. Tube time is quiet time, everyone knows it's an unwritten rule of the tube at rush hour, no talking and if you have to talk, talk quietly so everyone else can recover from their day. Unfortunately, I was followed onto the carriage by a large group of American tourists who talked loudly and ignorantly for my entire journey home, frazzling my nerves and distracting me from my book.
By the time I got back to my stop, I was not happy, but a tourist free suburban mecca beckoned and I stepped out of the station excited for a quiet, obstacle free walk home.
Out of nowhere, I was ambushed by a large group of tourists, wearing matching t-shirts, with the same bedraggled, clipboard wielding adult leading them. At this point, I saw red. Why do these large groups insist on hindering the progress of my journey today? I angrily started to wade through the crowd, ruthlessly pushing stationary people out the way. As I tried to move past one person I noticed that he had a logo on his bright orange t-shirt. It said 'Scottish Autism' on it. I looked around and realised that the bright green t-shirts had 'Down Syndrome International' written on them.
Yes, I had lost my patience with people who have mental disabilities and yes, I am going straight to hell.
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