Kamikaze Pram Pilots

dod

As I recall McDonalds in O’Connell Street was the first of the international fast-food restaurant franchises to open in Ireland. On my occasional visits to the capital as a child, it was a rare treat to have a burger and chips with what, to me, was a big bucketful of coke. There was something exotic about the thin-as-nails chips (sorry french fries). Ronald McDonald (oh how I cringe) was somehow glamorous. Parents coerced their children into early nights to bed with promises of a visit to McDonalds during Saturday shopping. How things have changed - now none of our main streets have managed to escape without being polluted by a McDonalds, a Burger King or a Wendys- yet with the proliferation of the fast food restaurants we have become more conscientious about our food and now we make a deliberate choice to avoid eating in them.

On Thursday I was in the O’Connell Street area and felt like grabbing some food-on-the-go. Rather than wolf down a treble-cholesterol burger with ten-percent-starch-ninety-percent-fat chips, and wash it down with caffeine cordial diluted in carbonated water, I dropped into a supermarket off O’Connell Street to get something a little healthier. Little did I realise that such an innocent, well-intended act would bring me closer to a more terrifying jeopardy than any visit to a cardiac clinic would ever entail.

My own experience of supermarkets is minimal. As a single bloke, shopping consists of a pizza here and there, a few beers if the guys are coming over and the occasional bottle of wine when visiting relations. On one visit, I bought a box of muesli as part of a vow to change my unhealthy lifestyle (that was more than a year ago- the box of muesli remains unopened to this day). The exposure has led me to appreciate the supermarket as a Darwinian circus – get in, get what you want, and get out as fast as possible lest you be trampled underfoot by the more seasoned and aggressive shoppers chasing the 2-for-1 deals and eyeing every fellow customer with suspicion lest you have found a discount voucher they haven’t.

Even this naive appreciation of supermarkets in general could not have prepared me for the bizarre experience that awaited me on North Earl Street on Thursday. I got in the door and was immediately accosted by a hostile kamikaze pram-pilot. She ran the pram into my shins, I jumped out of her way and she charged through the aisle to the next person who also got a legful of her pram. Then she pressed on oblivious, head down, arse pushed out the back to ensure maximum velocity, to bruise the calves of the next unfortunate shopper. When the poor child in the pram grows up, he will think the world is his dodgem-car oyster.

I pressed on to the pastries counter. When I picked up two croissants, I got a suspicious glare from a lady pensioner, as if I had picked the very two she had had her good eye on, not because I wanted to eat them, but because I had a deep down resentment toward old people. I had to consciously steel my resolve to follow this dangerous operation through to a successful conclusion, and remind myself that this was part of a new and healthier lifestyle choice.

I moved on, looking for the fridge where I might pick up a bottle of milk. I made a basic, green recruit mistake. I innocently walked past the narrow end of an aisle into what was obviously the thoroughfare aisle for this shop. Pram-kamikaze woman charged straight into me, a direct hit. She looked up at me, a scowl of utter derision on her face. She shouted at the child in the pram for having the temerity to have come to a stop rather than vaporised such a sorry creature as that they had just hit. Then she glared at me again, screamed something in a hobbit-like language and pushed the pram at me again. As it was now implanted some inch or two into my calves she had to make an extra effort to pull it out of my flesh, and to get a half-metre charge at me in order to make a more substantial dent. Or preferably to vaporise me.

Adrenaline, eh? Fight or flight? Had you seen this woman, you would have understood that the right thing to do was to run as far away from her as possible. Were I to jump forward, I would have jumped further into the main thoroughfare, and possibly the danger of further pram-traffic. So as she brushed her hind foot in the dust preparing for another charge at me, I leapt backwards, the intention being to retire to the relative calm and safety of the narrow end between the aisles.

Unfortunately I had become victim to a pincer movement. I leapt back just in time to be on the receiving end of another pram hurtling at me from behind. In a panic, I jumped to the right, only to be stampeded by a shopping trolley wielded with abandon by an old lady. Probably revenge for my having taken those two croissants. I yelped, and fled for the first gap I could see, another aisle. I thought that if I kept up my momentum they wouldn’t catch me and I might escape with just a walking stick for life and arthritis. I ran up the aisle only to find they had cleverly blocked it off. Two forty-something, robust ladies had parked their trolleys perpendicular to the aisle blocking any attempt to pass. They were nattering away about some soap opera as I arrived at them. I looked at the slightly smaller one, my eyes begging for pity, my face swathed in perspiration. She looked at her friend, glowered at me, then went back to discussing the intricacies of some plot. I realised that it was probably my fate was to die at the hands of these ladies who shop.

In resignation I turned around, determined to face my demise with my head held high. The little paper bag with the croissants in it I placed on a shelf. I looked forward, if I were ever to get out of this impossible situation, to enjoying all the burgers and chips I could manage. Life is just too short to eat healthily. I couldn’t see the mad pram-women, but they were there. Worse, as a result of their brilliant field tactics, they knew exactly where I was. I decided to attempt to saunter out as if this battleground were familiar to me. Don’t let them smell your fear.

I got near to the supermarket door and ran. I ran for all I was worth. I didn’t stop until I got inside the door of McDonalds. It was the first time I recall leaving a tip in a fast food restaurant. It was also the first time that I realised cholesterol soaked fast food really can be relatively good for you.

mike65

Great post.

I just love the way mothers push thier babies out into the traffic first when crossing a busy street....

Mike.

Ste-

Do they think all people will move for them ?
As if having a kid gives you a sorta "bus lane" through the city walkways ?

KdjaCL

Omg although some of the post makes sense ,the other side of the coin is having to cross roads in Dublin while wheeling a buggy.
You have no idea what is allowed to drive when you have to watch it like a hawk.
Numerous times i and one of the kids have been near killed by complete idiots who think they can beat a red light.

This happens every time i use the buggy every road is a deathtrap with idiots who shouldnt be allowed to wealk the streets nevermind drive on them.

Its seriously scary when you have to watch every car ,whether it be people with a sever phobia of indicating and view red lights as a challenge on pedestrian crosses.

Kdjac

Makaveli

Trollies are worse than prams.
They have a little bar running around the bottom that the wheels are attached to, and this is the perfect height to catch you across the heels. So you get your typical shopper in a world of their own, not paying any attention and whack into your heels. You already know their skinned and bleeding.
Shopppers. God I hate them.

Giblet

So you admit you're a fat bastard then.

Lump

Ha Ha, that last post is a cracker.




John

Ruaidhri

Classic!!
That's most supermarkets down to a tee!

This HAS to be post of the month...if they updated that ever.

Gordon

Agree - potm!

Big Chief

should all chip in and get this guy a journal..

posts are always well written, presented and a pleasure to read

BuffyBot

How true :mad:

The bloody things annoy me greatly

Havelock

He's proably one of those mad writer types, you lnow literate and stuff.

Am I Sad?

Screw the express checkouts....when do we get men only checkouts?? The Supermarket that puts one of these in gets my business.

In our local Tesco's there are 2 express checkouts. I joined the longer queue. I got a tap on the shoulder from a middle aged lady, "Son why don't you join the other queue, there'd be only 2 in front of you. Theres 5 in front of you here??" I said, no thanks. Somewhat bemused she said "suit yourself" and she joined the shorter queue. I got a confused look from the bloke in front who overheard the conversation. I explained that at least in this queue it was 5 men in front of me. Had I joined the other queue I would have 1 old lady and a middle aged lady with a cavernous handbag in front.

Needless to say all six of us blokes got served and were away before the lady who offered me the place in the other queue got served herself. As the guy in front was leaving he said. "Cheers m8, you've taught me a valuable lesson today!!"

Absolutely nothing to do with murphy's law or anything like that, purely as a result of the female propensity to want to find the exact change, use the 10c coupon, charge half the bill to visa and half cash, put the shopping on her loyalty card.........all required items invariably buried at the bottom of the purse which is hidden in the handbag which has been put in the old Dunnes bag cause the strap broke...........................


Sweet Jesus.......give me strength.

mike65

Needless to say all six of us blokes got served and were away before the lady who offered me the place in the other queue got served herself

Indeed, you just know that a woman will not have the money ready when the total due is rung up. Blokes are so eager to leave the shopping experience it must be programmed in our genes!

Mike.

elexes

ye its always the same . prams seem to come out from nowhere with no thought as to what there doing and no matter what u done r what was going on ur always in the wrong cause theres a baby there and its your job to look out for there baby

Puck

Repeat after me:

Watch where you're going you stupid woman!

Cabaal

If there are two things that piss me off SO much when I'm in town,

Its people with umbrellas because they stab you in the eye as they walk up the street or turn to walk into a shop.

An its women with there dam prams, as you walk down the street they just push them out of door ways in front of you without even looking.

What I've noticed recently as I've been cycling in town more is that even if there's a green light for traffic to go, women with prams seem to think its ok to try and cross when a persons on a bike is going at full towards the junction.

Bloody muppets!!
Has the law been changed to give these's people some god given right to do this ****?

mike65

Originally posted by Cabaal


Bloody muppets!!
Has the law been changed to give these's people some god given right to do this ****?

Mums with prams join cyclists as Gods chosen ones, so they can do pretty much as they please!

Mike.

monument

Originally posted by mike65
Mums with prams join cyclists as Gods chosen ones, so they can do pretty much as they please!

A bit like motorists who think it’s their god given right to drive and park their cars any where.

po0k

Originally posted by Cabaal
Has the law been changed to give these's people some god given right to do this ****?

Upon reading this post I'm reminded of Bill Hicks.

"Step on the fucking gas"

Capt'n Midnight

A wheelchair being pushed. The foot plates are at Achilles tendon height...

Also kids on leads - usually ok - except on rainy days. Then there are those jokers who twirl their umbrellas - thus guaranteeing that one will be at eye level. As you try to dodge that, you trip on across a lead....

Cabaal

Originally posted by monument
A bit like motorists who think it’s their god given right to drive and park their cars any where.

Yeahb bloody annoying when your on a bike trying to get around a busy roundabout and they speed up when they see you coming onto it.
Then they beep at you for getting in there way...

Don't they realise a person on a bike can't excelerate as fast as a motorbike or a car can.
ffs!!!

Shilo

That was a wonderfully written post. Can I just say, in my own defence, as a woman who invariably has kids with her when shopping that we're not ALL that horrible... It's true though, that many women really do have a serious problem recognising that other people are allowed to move about in a shop. I've lost count of the number of times I've dragged my 63 year old mother, complete with trolley, out of the way of EVERYONE. She seems to think it's the worlds job to get out of her way. Ditto when she's pushing either of my two in a pushchair. Having said that, I think she's coming down with Alzheimer's or something. It's the only possible excuse. She thinks it's weird that I never carry cash when we go shopping and then wonders why I start getting impatient while she works out her change/vouchers/clubcards etc. Meanwhile, the checkout assistant is going gently grey.

I'm inclined to think it should be treated as some kind of recognised mental health problem.