The moment my earphones died I no longer want to be at the theme park, standing in line within earshot of the brash young man five places in front of me, enduring the incessant droning that spewed from his mouth.
I tried to go within, tried to drown him out, but with each attempt, the louder he got. I felt sorry for his friends, who couldn’t get a word in edge ways, sorry for his parents, who must’ve looked forward to the moment each day when he finally went to sleep.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he talked in his sleep.
I seriously considered leaving the line, but had been queuing for over thirty minutes and I was close to the front. Plus, in spite of hating crowds, I enjoyed the rides. I was looking forward to the centrifugal force pinning me against the wall.
Finally, I was on the ride, directly opposite Mr. Centre of Attention.
He mustn’t have been listening to the instructions, too busy loving the sound of his own voice would be my guess, and thought it would be a good idea to break free from the wall.
He tumbled around, hurting himself and causing minor injures to others.
There was an article about it next day online. He lost half his teeth and shattered his jaw. The accompanying picture showed him in a hospital bed, flanked by his parents. His mother had a face like thunder, his father had a hint of a smile.