I stand in the Calgary airport book shop while I wait for the seconds to tick by so I can catch my last flight of the day that will bring me to Kamloops. I am standing alone in front of the giant 'New Releases' wall of fiction, just staring up at all the titles in open mouthed awe while my sleep deprived brain starts to smell like burning as I comprehend what I see.
Books? Books. Books! YIPPPPEEEEEE.
I continue to stand a respectful distance away from this throne of stories when a young man (so you know, probably 28--not thirty *sniff*) walks towards me.
"Oh, sorry. Sorry...I just...sorry about this, eh!" he says brightly.
And the reason for his profuse apology? Well, it wasn't because he spilled his Starbucks all over me. It was because he had to walk in front of me.
I know! Not once was there ever a bursting of the personal space bubble; I was not jostled, stepped on, nor did my skirt whisper in the breeze of a passing that was too close. He just...had to walk in front of me. So really what his apology can be translated to is: "Sorry about this, but I have to enter into your line of vision! Sorry about that! I'll try to get out of your sight as soon as possible. I apologize for this huge inconvenience of having to be seen."
With a little smile I proved that I am a good troll, and I let him pass through my line of vision without requesting a toll or a rhyme.
Oh Canada, it's good me be home.