After a long and reasonably productive day at work, I was off to Shaw for a rousing musical performance of High Society.
Have you ever noticed that the senior members of our community (whom I love, adore, and duly respect both as a whole and, where merited, as individuals) can be ever-so-very disquieting in large groups? Oh, the mass of humanity!
On this evening, a significant portion of the audience was of the aged (and, presumably, honourable and beloved) set. Upon the end of the performance, however, I very nearly feared for my life. In large numbers, their group movements become unpredictable unless, like a flock of birds, you happen to be one of them, in which case you seem to instinctively react and respond to modifications in the group's bearing. On this occasion, while being funneled out of the theatre through a much-too-narrow set of doors (much like sheep exiting a fold), I was bounced around between two disorienting movement patterns.
The first was what I call "On A Mission" in which the aforementioned seniors (whom, as I've said before, I love and respect regardless of their exiting behaviours) pick a goal -- such as the door, their car, or one of several large tour buses -- and head there, ready to bodycheck anyone who should stand in between them and their goal. Now, that's not quite right. They didn't even seem to register that their could be someone between them and their goal.
The second was the "Stick the Landing" in which someone walking in front of you stops without a nanosecond's notice, going from sixty to a standstill with no apparent slowing. Then you're left dodging, a precarious endeavour thanks to everyone else being On A Mission to both the left and right, as well as behind you. You're left doing a sort of athletic Pick and Turn to swing past them and back into the flow. Yeesh!
I'm thinking of proposing that the esteemed aged equip themselves with a set of indicator lights which will alert us to such things. Or maybe at least a brake light on the backs of their hats.