The stories about the strollers triggered these memories...
I used to play a Bb bass in a brass band. This is an enormous instrument, bigger than a tuba. He (his name was Arnie, after the esteemed former governor of California) lived in a hard plastic case, with two little wheels like a suitcase. The whole shebang was about 1.5 metres long, 70cm wide and weighed nearly 20kg. Maneuverable he was not.
Many and vivid are the memories of trying to make my way along crowded footpaths to the band mustering point, towing Arnie. Conversations usually went something like this...
ME; Excuse me, can I get past please?
THEM; blank stare.
ME; Excuse me please?
THEM; shuffle one step to the left when I need them to move two metres to the right.
ME; Can you move over further please? That gap is not big enough, I'll hit you if I try to get through there.
THEM; blank stare. Move another half step.
Repeat every couple of metres.
Inside my head I was screaming, "LOOK AT WHAT I'M TOWING, YOU MORON! Arnie and I could crush you like a bug meeting a freight train! I am giving you three seconds to get out of my way BEFORE I MOW YOU DOWN WHERE YOU STAND!"
Fortunately etiquette won. But it took self control.