The Segway City Tour, A.K.A. All That is Wrong With Our Country

So I’m in D.C. this week for an overdue family vacation that I’m surprised even came together, given everyone’s schedules and all the random crap that can get in the way. Anyway, rather early on in my exploration I came across something that deeply disturbed and enraged me: segway tours of the city. These guys:


Yeah, there they were, following an equally segwayed tour guide zipping around the city, leaving us walkers in the dust. At first I felt like a second-class citizen (which apparently isn’t that hard in D.C.) as they approached from behind, with a Doppler affected “excuse me” or “watch out” that reeked of condescension when they passed us.

That whole thing only lasted for a second, because then I realized that the group of segwaying pricks that just passed represent everything that is wrong with this country. I won’t lie, I get the appeal. Hey, walking is harder than not walking. I understand. I have a few pounds I could afford to lose so on some level it makes sense; why walk around this city when I can ride this device and see everything I want without worrying about fatigue, chafing, and other common fat-dude-trying-to-be-active problems. To be fair it also seemed fairly efficient. But I see them and it’s clear that if you’re going to segway around a city then you might as well log onto your laptop, open your browser of choice (I hope for your sake you aren’t using IE), type in and street view that shit, that way you get to see whatever it is you wanted to see and I don’t have to be angered by your lazy doucheness. Seriously, if you’re considering going on a segway tour then do us both a favor and eat enough ice cream and cheeseburgers and crap so that you’ll have to go on your next tour in a wheelchair since you exceed the segway weight limits, because those have to exist. At least you’ll get to the front of all of the lines and all I’ll see is a legitimately fat dude in a wheelchair when I pass you on the street. It’s truly a win-win. Or do the google maps thing.

You might wonder why I have such strong feelings about this. Your dumb friend might think I was just jealous. I wish I was jealous. I wish I was one of those people who was ignorant and hollow enough to ride the shit out of that segway. I wish I was oblivious enough to ride it like a majestic bronco. But alas, I am not that lucky. I’m cursed with the awareness that something isn’t right here and that things aren’t getting better. Unfortunately, perhaps even impossibly, things take a turn for the worse. Just down the road from where I was passed a mere moment ago I see this:


These assholes decided that they needed to rest. Yes, because segwaying is soo hard that you need to take a break. And no, they weren’t just looking at stuff because they never de-segwayed when they were checking out a landmark or something before, so don’t be that guy. They parked their segways and guzzled on some refreshing beverage that they didn’t earn.

Leave it to the nation’s capital to provide a poignant example of the crappyness that we’ve become as a society. Everyone is always so damn content, so comfortable being comfortable. Just complacent. Stop it. Things aren’t going to get better for you if you’re not okay with being uncomfortable every once in awhile. I’m not saying I’m better than all of those segwaying tourists, but I’ve got sunburn, sore feet, and chafed parts that I thought were unchafable that tell me otherwise. I may not always follow this chicken nugget of advice that I just gave, but I know I’ll never be segway tour dude. So go be uncomfortable, even if that begins with sitting in a crappier chair for your next marathon Netflix session.


Post-game edit/wrap-up: for what it’s worth D.C. was pretty great and to be fair, the people actually living in D.C. seemed to be a fairly active bunch. I don’t have any science to back this, but it seemed like a higher percent of them were running and biking than in other cities I’ve been to. Seriously, it was 100 fucking degrees out and these people were jogging all the time. I’d be dead. And somehow all of the dudes in suits managed to avoid breaking a sweat while I’m in cargos and a T dripping the most savory butter. I’m not sure what sorcery they utilized but I’d be willing to try anything. My guess, ice cubes in the ass. Oh, and these people were really strict about their escalator etiquette. Even when a train wasn’t coming they’d curse at you if you dared stand on the left side. They weren’t wrong, but they didn’t have to be assholes.


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