One reason it's not good to be short in Los Angeles

The sidewalks here are no wider than in any other city, and are consequently ill-equipped to accommodate the foot traffic of some 4 million people. So inevitably while walking around the neighborhood, there is some side-stepping, smiling and "excuse me" saying, and occasional run-ins with hyperactive dogs (I really don't mind those). This is usually not a big deal.

However, my neighborhood contains more than its fair share of aspiring models. And let me tell you something about these women:

First of all, they are 12 feet tall.


Second, they have terribly big egos, especially considering how freakin' tiny they really are (size, not height)


Third, they walk down the dead middle of every sidewalk, usually swinging a giant purse. And they do not move. There is no excuse me with these girls. Because clearly they are the Most Important Thing in the Universe. They are the sidewalk equivalent of an SUV doing 15 over on the freeway, zipping across lanes and cutting people off as they go.


Here are my options:
1. Literally step off the sidewalk.
2. Hold my ground and see what happens.


And usually I opt for #1, but sometimes I just get annoyed. When I choose to hold my ground however (like today), Ms. Amazon Ego almost always runs into me. Usually the contact is pretty light, just an arm brush accompanied by a sideways head turn that seems to say "who do you think you are, hobbit?" A few times I've seen them lean into it like some scrawny, bitchy linebacker; this means that they DO in fact see me. Sometimes I actually get pushed lightly off the sidewalk.

In my head, I tell them they look like a dead tree branch, and then try to move on with my day.