Prepositional Etiquette

Intriguing is how humans behave when they believe they are free of the laws of prepositions - perceiving themselves emancipated from an exact description of their location in space or in time. That's when something motivates us to move; make things better for ourselves.

Observe, specifically, how we behave when we are in a queue for something - anything. Let's say, oh, the line to board a bus or train or plane. If there is even the remotest chance of getting ahead, in front of, or, before someone else - even if that means just one other person in a queue of two - we must focus our energies on resisting the urge to occupy that oh-so-tempting space.

Alas, only the strongest conquer their basic instincts.

Yet, even those who succumb do so in spite of themselves. The dark side wells up, overtakes them in a heartbeat at their most vulnerable, and the rest is all about sneaking in half a foxtrot to overtake, overpower, oh hell, just plain win.

After all, who can resist the urge to cut ahead of that disorganised traveller who dares spend one extra second rooting through her cluttered knapsack for her passport, or that frail old man who indulges in the luxury of double checking he has the right ticket for the train, or that annoying young couple too engrossed in the presence of each other's chins to care about walking abreast onto an escalator.

They hear the voice. They must be overtaken. Destroyed. By us. Yes, preciousssss....

Next thing you know, the pace picks up. A guilty glance over a shoulder, the twitch of an eyelid, then a downcast look at the shoes to hide the evil intent. The terrible deed must not falter.

Then, the attack. There is the swerve. The attempt to dart slightly ahead of the competition, and if the gods of all things speedy cause the road to rise up to meet them - then success is just a sidling away.

Most times, this conquering of a victim is a victory most privately relished. Victims are down before they realise what, or who, swooped past them. Even if they care enough to say anything, the deed is done, over, in the past, behind. Bah! The losers.

Now there is a cure to this condition, of course, as one victim of the prepositionally base recently discovered. When confronted with a typically blindsiding tormentor who, in prepositional-development years was rather a shoe size than any particular phase of human adulthood, there was a thick black wallet handy, which was deftly applied to the back of a head to smack some common courtesy and the fear of overstuffed purses into him.

This quick-thinking effectively (and rather instantly) concluded an otherwise prepositionally vile phase with a small moan and neat punctuation mark: a full stop.

Like so: "ow."

One never knows, I suppose, when one might encounter a prepositional neanderthal. I guess it's always a good idea to keep a fat wallet about one's person then - even if it is one filled only with receipts.