the iphone guilty remnant
If you are someone who watches videos or send text messages or answers emails on your phone while walking, consider this official notice: one day, someone is going to stop directly in front of you, or walk up from behind while you're searching for the <smiley face with heart eyes> emoji, and smack your phone out of your hands directly on to the fucking pavement. And that person will be me.
When the scene plays out in my mind, I stand in front of you, silent, wearing this white Westerlind Climbing Jumpsuit like a member of the iPhone Guilty Remnant here to remind you that selfishness has consequences. If I have to miss another train by seconds or jostle another pregnant lady on a crowded staircase just because you're walking at a snail's pace face down in a screen, please be aware the price of your inattention will be paid in broken Gorilla Glass scattered on the sidewalk.
Now, you may think you're keeping it all together, that no one will know you're still trying to find the perfect GIF as you shuffle off the bus, but you're wrong. Try as you might there is no way to circumvent the two never-fail, dead giveaways of device distraction:
1) As you stare at a phone held at waist level, you contort in to an unnatural, rounded posture which suggests an impending audition for the role of Quasimodo in a local community theatre production.
2) In a desperate attempt to account for unseen divots or rocks while you try to Snapchat your shoes, you develop a gait that, despite presenting all the markers of a healthy - albeit basic as hell - twenty or thirty-something (Canada Goose jacket, Herschel backpack, and boring ass New Balances) implies you are just starting to use your legs for the first time, with each step unsure and knees bent several degrees beyond a healthy level.
Until today, the only recourse when overtaking these people, like a Corvette flinging dust at an Amish buggy, is to slowly attempt eye contact as you pass by and shake your head. But, since Jill was unable to look up from the last three minutes of Santa Clarita Diet to catch your disapproval, that is only a one sided-release.
Well, Jill, not any more.
Hopefully Jill's office has a lax policy on Netflix at work and she wasn't waiting on a text from her mom on where to meet for lunch this afternoon because now that I've knocked that giant Samsung Note out of her oblivious mitts it belongs to the gods of the sewers. Fingers crossed she backed up those pictures of her niece's birthday!
So, really, just don't be an asshole; if you're in a heavily trafficked area put your phone away until you reach your destination. It won't be Omar coming that you'll have to be worried about, it'll be me.
Why: Is a unisex, one piece cotton-ripstop jumpsuit at all practical for hitting the boulders? Is "hitting the boulders" even something people say? Who the hell knows! At the very least, being able to deflect glances from perpetually uncool coworkers by replying, "Uhh, this is my mountain climbing jumpsuit, dude," is worth half the - very reasonable - price of admission. Perfect for Burning Man, or just hanging out, being the man (or woman - after all it's unisex, remember).