What I've always called "double-parking," sidewalkspreading is what it sounds like. You've seen it, and you've cursed it. You've been behind it, in a hurry or not. You've come face to face with them, pushed to the curb or through the middle of a group perplexed by your mere existence.
Sometimes it's a family from Nebraska ogling the skyline. But others should know better. Stuck behind a hoard of tiny hipsters who inexplicably manage to monopolize the entire sidewalk with a collective weight of 150, you think, "how?" Or a tragic incarnation of Carries and Mirandas who haven't yet learned how to walk in their Manolos, "you must know better." And sometimes it's just one with a Starbucks cup in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and a Michael Kors granny bag draped at the elbow like she's Victoria ****ing Beckham.
You know who you are and you all know better. End the sidewalkspreading.
|Stop it. Just...stop.|