Writing about martial arts seems to be the hip thing to do, but I haven’t been involved in this particular “art form” since I myself was a snappy seven-year-old. On Saturday, though, I did find myself in a situation where in order to get by, I was forced to call upon my quick wits, fleetness of foot, and sheer physical strength.
I found myself in one of the inexplicably narrow aisles of a certain giant discount store, confidently striding toward the pet-care department where I hoped to find some necessary items for my cat. In front of me was a corpulent lady in a slow-moving motorized scooter/shopping cart, usually offered for the infirm or obese patrons of said establishment.
The diabolus ex machina was inching slowly on the right side of the aisle, approaching a stationary, abandoned shopping cart on the left. I was about to be blocked in, cut off from all access to the kitty litter I so desperately needed! Here, my friends, is where the art of Kyokushin (or “ultimate truth” style) shopping came to my rescue.
I saw my opportunity, leapt straight for the empty cart on the left, and shot forward about ten steps, propelling the cart ahead of me. I then let go the cart, left it standing abandoned again, hopped back to the right in front of the woman in the scooter dingus, effectively passing her, and headed happily on my way. The slack-jawed habitués of this sprawling, fluorescent wasteland merely gaped, scratching their bellies in consternation and befuddlement.
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