Have people forgotten how to walk on city streets? I’m about 5 minutes away from buying a Supersoaker and filling it with Welch’s Grape Juice just to deter people from stopping short in the middle of the sidewalk. (Why Welch’s Grape Juice? Because as anyone who grew up in Massachusetts knows it’s frigging impossible to get it out of clothing and carpet and curtains.) I know I work in Boston, and I also know it’s a tourist destination but these people aren’t visiting from the far reaches of the Outback where there are no streets let alone sidewalks. How do I know? Because they don’t sell selfie sticks in the Outback and every one of these assholes has one. Last evening I was walking to the train station. It was a nice night so I decided to avoid the 7th circle of Hell, i.e. The Green Line and walk to Government Center. As I was making my way around the Boston Common on Tremont Street I noticed a line of people waiting to get into the movie theater. Maybe 30 people. It was a Tuesday so I am not sure what they were waiting to see but it was hardly a spectacle to see 30 folks milling around on the sidewalk on a nice fall evening. A young couple started crossing the street on the diagonal from the movie theater side of Tremont to the park side. The woman (mid to late 20s, trendy dress and shoes completely unsuitable for sightseeing) walked into the street without checking for cars, her head turned completely over her shoulder looking at the folks in front of the theater. Her companion (same age but much more appropriately dressed) was already firmly planted on the sidewalk while she was literally stopped short in the middle lane pointing and asking him, “what’s going on? what are they waiting for?” I was about 20 yards away and could hear her plainly. He started yelling at her to get out of the street as an MBTA bus was starting to travel towards her at an alarming speed. She managed to meander her way onto the edge of the sidewalk just as the bus flew past, her head still at an angle reminiscent of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, and still pointing and exclaiming about the modest line of people in front of the theater like it was a 4 alarm fire roaring out of control. I was moving quickly down the sidewalk taking in the scene and expecting idiocy. I would not be disappointed. I had headphones on listening AC/DC  but still very aware of my surroundings and still able to hear her onslaught of questions to guy who presumably knew less about it than she did and most certainly cared not at all. I was about to sidestep around her when she decided to step away from the curb – without turning her head, mind you. I was beginning to think it was stuck permanently in that position like an some overused Barbie Doll after a bad night in the Dream House. She slammed into me so forcefully and with such surprise (to her, not me) her giant phone and the ubiquitous selfie stick went flying and landed on the other side of the little wrought fence that separates the park from the sidewalk. She finally turned her head forward and looked at me like I was an alien lifeform who mysteriously beamed down into her personal space. She then ran to the fence to retrieve her phone. Even the $80 pink Otterbox could not save her iPhone. Its screen, reflecting the overcast cast sky, looked like the mangled tinfoil from an old school Hershey bar.  She immediately began wailing about it. She didn’t apologize to me, or even say excuse me.Her boyfriend looked at me apologetically but just shrugged and went to comfort her. I stood there for a second, mourning the death of good manners and politeness, turned up Angus Young and said in my best Irish Whisper, “Fucking tourists.”