The protagonist: Me.
The action: As I try to alight, an old crone and her sidekick block me, trying to get in.
The solution: Raise both arms to about chest level, starting together and sweeping apart. Adopt a stern tone. Shoot daggers from the eyes. Say aloud: "Get out of the way".
The result: Success.
I am thinking of patenting special elbow-bling, made of titanium preferably, to provide our hapless selves with some *really* sharp elbows.
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